Fate Awaits
by Celtic55
Summary: Takes place shortly after DH.  They were all so young to lose so much.  Our hero & heroine return to Hogwarts for their final year to see what a Voldemort free world has to offer, but evil has many faces besides the Dark Lord.  Do heroes ever rest? H/HR!
1. Chapter 1: The Funeral

_Hermione stood beside her husband Ron waving happily as the Hogwarts Express departed from Platform 9 3/4 with a great plume of smoke. She fondly remembered her first day on the Hogwart's express, running around like a bossy little know-it-all, secretly scared to death to enter a world that she and her parents previously knew nothing of._

_She knew Hogwarts would hold many grand mysteries, adventures and friendships for her children, but they would be safe now, the evil times were behind them. Harry's scar had not pained him in 19 years. All was well._

_And yet suddenly, Hermione felt herself lifting from the fog of the cheery Hogwarts express. She realized she was disappearing bit by bit, and neither her adoring husband nor her loving friends could even see that she was vanishing. They merely continued to wave happily at the departing train. She tried to shout out but nothing came from her mouth as she had now entirely disappeared._

_She heard the screeching laughter of Belletrix Lestrange laughing in her ear and she felt the pain of torture creep though her entire body._

Hermione felt strong hands grabbing her shoulders, and she was ripped from the dream suddenly and back into reality. She wasn't married to Ron, she was still eighteen years old and The Boy Who Lived, Then Died, Then Lived Again was shaking her awake, staring at her with his emerald green eyes.

"Hermione! Wake up!" Harry urged.

She gasped for air, unable to fully recollect her surroundings, and he slowly let go of her shoulders so she could slowly sink back into the soft mattress of the her bed at the Burrow. She felt slightly embarrassed suddenly and drew the covers up around her shoulders, wondering who else she may have woken up.

"Bad dreams?" he asked, lazily flopping down at the foot of the bed. She felt relieved that his concerned eyes were no longer on her.

"Nothing to fret over" she responded dully.

"Maybe you should try taking some of that dreamless sleep potion" he advised.

"Sounds like something I'd say to you" she snorted, finally feeling less scared and a bit more settled.

"Except that I'm just making a suggestion" he noted. "You, on the other hand, would have phrased it as a demand."

She laughed and the cold feeling of fear finally passed. Once more she had the sudden overwhelming feeling of happiness that Harry had survived. There had been so much doubt, for so long, that any of them would survive, but especially him. At a point it seemed inevitable that he must die to save them all, but she was inexpressibly pleased that he had prevailed in the end. She had spent so many years of her life protecting him, helping him, standing by his side. She couldn't imagine how empty life would feel without him.

"Did I wake you?" she finally asked from the dark, watching how the silver moonlight still poured through the drapes.

"No, I haven't been sleeping well" he confessed. There had been a time when he had been reluctant to tell her many things, knowing how she would fuss over him. But after all those nights camping in the woods, after standing besides his parent's grave with her at his side, and facing death many times together, it seemed silly to lie and be shy about such things.

"Well, then maybe it's you who needs dreamless sleep" she scoffed, sitting upright and realizing she wouldn't be falling back asleep anytime soon. She studied him lying there at the foot of her bed, sprawled out like an athlete after a long run. His raven hair fell across his face and she couldn't tell if his eyes were open or closed.

"I'm afraid to ignore my dreams. I'm afraid that if I don't dream, I'll start to forget about them. All of them."

There was a silent pause and she moved down the bed, curling up beside him. "You could never forget them Harry. They will never be forgotten."

"I can hardly remember anything about my parents. I have seen them in the pensieve, and in the Mirror of Erised and such, but I have no real memories of my own"

"You were one when they died Harry!" Hermione exclaimed.

"I know... it's foolish, I just don't want the same to happen for Sirius or Lupin or Dumbledore..." as he listed names he felt his throat clench up and so he stopped talking and looked away from her, seeking comfort in the dark shadowy nothingness of the room.

"I sometimes worry that I will forget my parents" she admitted. "I know they're alive and well, but it's like they are as lost to me as I am to them. I think sometimes, if I ever have kids, they will never know their grandparents. And it's... it's terrible because they were really great parents." She found suddenly that tears were gliding down her cheeks and she wiped them away hastily, but not before Harry's eyes had returned to her face to see them gleaming in the eerie moonlight.

"I'm sorry" he whispered, not sure what else to say or do.

"For Merlin's sake Harry, don't apologize, it's not your fault, how many times do we have to go over this?"

_Until I believe it_ he thought to himself, but he kept his lips sealed. Instead, he said, "We're just so young to have given up so very much."

There was a long silence in the room as a gradual breeze lifted the curtain and drifted through the room. It would be Fred's funeral that day, and the hour approached with increasing dread. Harry was having a difficult time being at the Weasley's. He knew that those who died did not die for him, they died for a cause they believed in. But since he was a baby he had become the face of a resistance that had ended in success, but also much pain and bloodshed. He knew that for some old friends, he was difficult to even look at. Ginny was amongst them.

Harry was not angry for the discomfort others felt so recently in the aftermath of the great battle. He entirely understood how strong a reminder he was of all that had happened. He could hardly look at his own face in the mirror without feeling a flood of remorse for the lives lost, and that irritating, lingering feeling that maybe if things had been done slightly different, or somewhat quicker.

But he tried to squash all that doubt. If he had learned one thing since he had discovered his fate as the Boy Who Lived, it was that destiny was unavoidable. Things fell into place and there was nothing a measly bespectacled boy could do about it but try his best and fight with all his courage.

And then there was the other thing... was it really all over? Well, that he also tried not to think about. Evil had many faces besides Voldemort.

Unknown to Harry, Hermione lay beside him thinking very much the same. Some people were out celebrating the end of the dark lord, others were out mourning the losses of their loved ones. But still others were collecting in the darkness, plotting and planning. Those types would always be out there, but Harry would always fight them. She knew this just as surely as she knew that she would stand by his side as he did.

She gave a loud yawn and realized maybe there would be sleep after all. She buried her face against Harry's shoulder, breathing in that scent of cut grass and something difficult to place that was so clearly Harry. He was alive, and that would have to give her the hope to get through the grief for now.

IN the morning, Hermione awoke to find herself curled up at the end of her bed like Crookshanks taking a nap. Harry was long gone, not even a trace of his body warmth left on the sheets. As she rose to get ready, it felt like a rock had sunk to the bottom of her stomach. She was not ready to face Fred's funeral. She felt vaguely ill, but steadied herself. She would need to be strong for Ron, and her logical mind resolved that she would do just that.

She dressed in a black dress and black heels, giving herself a long gaze in the mirror as though to steady her nerves before leaving the solitude of the Weasley's guest bedroom. A knock came on the door and she knew it was time to face the day.

She opened the door to see an unusually pale Ron standing solemnly on the other side.

"Oh Ron!" she exclaimed, her heart breaking to see him in such pain. She threw her arms around his neck and he squeezed her close to him. "Sit down Ron, I'll fix your tie."

In his distress, much less than his tie was awry. His shirt looked wrinkled and his shoes needed polishing, but she did not admonish him as she normally would. She quietly set about using magic to tidy him up and then grabbed her brush to carefully smooth his fiery red locks out of his face. She ended by slowly re-doing his tie, hoping that the calmness of her actions would give him some measure of comfort to rest his thoughts in.

"I- I can't bear it Hermione" he suddenly stuttered, and then tears flowed freely from his eyes, and he tried to bow his head to keep her from seeing his anguish.

"I know Ron" she whispered, sitting beside him and wrapping her arms around him once more.

"George is just, so dead inside without Fred. They were two sides of the same coin. It's like when we lost one we lost the other as well."

"He'll get better Ron" she assured him, slowly rubbing his back. "It may be a long while but George is strong, just as Fred was. You just need to be there to remind him of who he is, remind him that he can still be George, even without Fred."

Ron took a long, teary inhalation and nodded. "You're right Hermione."

"Are you agreeing with me Mr. Weasley?" she joked quietly, hoping to ease the tension. "I never thought I see the day."

He smiled slightly through his tears and then leaned over to kiss her. She welcomed the embrace. They still hadn't had the time to discuss what they were to each other. Part of her still had reservations from being abandoned by him during the hunt for the horocruxes. Yet, she had always known that despite being hot headed Ron was a truly good soul, and even his foul moods stemmed from a great deal of passion. And she had admired him since they were children and he sacrificed himself during the chess match. She wanted to be in love with Ronald Weasley; she was just still determining if she was.

After their lips parted she took his hand in hers and led him out of the room and down to meet with the rest of the family so they might apparate together.

THE funeral was about as somber as could be expected. Mrs. Weasley cried hysterically as Mr. Weasley weakly attempted to comfort her. Bill and Charlie spoke of their brother, his bravery, his wild sense of humor, his skills on the Quidditch pitch and success as a businessman.

Ron held Hermione's hand with such ferocity that at times she felt it might break, but she ignored the pain and allowed him to cling to her. It seemed to her that his hand within hers was all that was keeping him from crumbling to the wet soil on which they stood. A storm had passed through just before the ceremony, and now blackened sky slowly separated over their heads, allowing yellow light to slowly melt through the clouds and down onto the heads of those mourning below.

Ginny stood with tears silently pouring down her fair white skin. She stood slightly apart from the rest of her family, and Harry ached with the desire to hold her, comfort her. He felt powerless as those he loved expressed their grief around a corpse that had once been filled with so much life. He felt his hands tremble with a mixture of sorrow and rage at the loss of life and innocence. He stuffed his hands deep into his pockets to control them and kept his face from showing the battle that raged inside. He needed to be their hero right now, not a 17 year old emotional boy.

He saw Ginny look up through her long red hair, and her eyes met his for an brief moment. The pain he saw there sent a jolt though his body and nearly took a step backwards. Then she took her eyes quickly away from him and they remained fixed on Fred's coffin for the rest of the funeral.

_How many more of these will there be?_ Harry wondered to himself as the casket was lowered into the dark soil. He had seen Lupin and Tonks buried already along with many others. Fred's body was the last to find it's way into the ground. He wanted to hope that this would be the last friend he would ever have to bury, but it was hard to believe. He had born into a world plagued by death; first his parents, then Cedric, Dumbledore...

Listing every life lost was a waste of time and he knew it. He remembered what Dumbledore's ghost had told him, "Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love." He couldn't allow things like fear of death turn him insane as it had Tom Riddle. No, wherever Fred was, he had found a peace that those still alive seemed far from.

When the funeral ended, Harry sought out Ginny from the crowds of people. When she saw him approaching she looked caught between running away and running into his arms, and as a result she simply stood there motionless.

"I think, wherever Fred is now, he has a lot of people laughing" Harry said, not wanting to offer the usual lame "I'm sorry for your loss."

Ginny tried to smile at the thought and that only made the tears flow more furiously. She reached out and found Harry's wrist, grabbing it tightly. He laid his hand gently on her shoulder and after what felt like an eternity of her battling her emotions she buried her face in his chest, her tears dampening through his black button up and onto his skin.

"I-I'm sorry Harry" she wept softly.

"There's nothing to be sorry for. We don't have to talk about it now." He rubbed her back slowly, their two bodies almost swaying as the sky opened up and warm sun poured down upon them.

"No, I've been terrible to you since the battle. I feel so lost."

"I know you Ginny Weasley. You're one of the strongest people I know. If you're lost right now, it's only for a little while. And when you decide what it is you want, I'll listen."

"Thank-you Harry" she whispered. She reached up and kissed him on the cheek very softly, and then turned and walked away to rejoin the rest of the Weasleys as they tried to comfort one another. Harry slowly approached Fred's headstone, and he knelt down in front of it, trying to think of what he wanted to say.

"I've seen a bit of death at this point I suppose. I'm still confused about it... I'm uncertain if you can see, or hear, or feel any of what is happening with the living. In many ways, I hope you can't. I hope your concerns with this tangled up world have ended, and that wherever you are, my parents and Sirius and Dumbledore and the rest are there, and you're all at peace. That's what I hope." He ended a bit lamely, and when he rose to his feet he sensed that Hermione was standing a few feet behind him.

"I think the Weasley's need some family time" she said, and Harry nodded in agreement. Harry and Hermione were practically part of the Weasley family, but in truth they were both just orphans. Hermione's parents had no memory of her, they were just as much a war casualty to her as Harry's parents were to him.

He linked arms with Hermione and they walked from the graveyard together. "Let's get a drink" he offered.

As they left the graveyard, Dumbledore's words echoed through his mind once more. "To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."


	2. Chapter 2: Firewhiskey

The remainder of the summer was spent primarily attempting to avoid the media in any shape or form. There was utter chaos in the wizarding world; the Ministry of Magic had all but crumbled and there were heated debates about what the future of the wizarding world ought to look like.

Despite her irritation with the media and the relentless questions about the final battle, it was only a matter of weeks before the boredom of sitting around the Burrow reading books hit Hermione. She would pace around the gardens while Ginny and Ron circled on their brooms high above in the sky. The act of flying seemed to be the only hobby that could appease the two, who were still most often silent and avoided conversation.

Harry had disappeared not long after Fred's funeral. He wasn't specific about where he was going but Hermione had a strong feeling he was probably spending some time alone at Grimmauld Place. At first she was aggravated with his disappearance, but she could also sense that there was tension between himself and Ginny, and she had to accept that he might need to deal with things in his own way.

Still, Hermione felt unsure on how to settle her own confused emotions in the wake of everything. She had been keeping herself occupied fussing over Ron and helping Mrs. Weasley get back on her feet. But now things were starting to quiet down, and slowly life moved forward. But she wasn't entirely sure if she was ready to move forward with it.

She had begun to take dreamless sleeping potions on a somewhat regular basis to avoid reminiscing about the pain Belletrix had caused her, or the dead faces of loved ones, or the stinging fear she had felt when she believed Harry had died in the final battle.

The dreams could be cured easily enough, it was the waking thoughts that she was beginning to struggle with. She missed her parents more than she had imagined she ever could, and longed to be home in the comfort of the bed that had once been hers, in the house that had been so wonderfully ordinary.

She would think about the re-occurring dream she has been experiencing, in which she was married to Ron and they bid their children farewell on the Hogwarts Express. In the dream, everything seemed so simple and happy. But now, an 18 year old girl who had experienced death, torture, loss and evil; she was unsure if life could ever truly be that simple.

Ron swept down from the sky on his broom and landed neatly on the ground. He walked over to Hermione, who had discarded her book carefully to the side, and was deep in thought, her brown eyes glazed over as she fell into the deep maze of her own thoughts and discontent.

Ron waved his hand slowly in front of her face and she jumped, as if being woken suddenly from a deep sleep.

"Sorry if I scared you" Ron grinned sheepishly, sitting beside her on a lawn chair where she had previously laid herself out to soak up some sun and catch up on some more reading.

"Oh, it's fine, I was just thinking."

"I've been thinking a bit while I was up there" he confessed, looking slightly nervous. "And, well... the thing is... bollocks, I'm no good with this sort of thing!"

"Oh just spit it out Ronald!" she exclaimed, the bossy Hermione tone in full force.

"Don't rush me!" he retorted, his face fully turning red. "Alright, well it's clear that we fancy each other. I've had a sort of thing for you since maybe our second year. And I was wondering... would you be my girlfriend? Like... officially yah know?"

He looked nervous and eager and suddenly stood up and began to pace while Hermione thought of her response. _Shouldn't this be automatic?_ she wondered. After all, she had never had a proper boyfriend, and even with all the distraction of war, she still very much wanted the experience of romantic love. She had spent much time over the past few years imagining Ron as her boyfriend.

"Yes" she finally responded, feeling a twinge guilty for making a poor nervous boy wait nearly a whole minute.

"Wicked" he grinned, and quickly he bent down and kissed her roughly on the lips and then walked off into the house. After he walked away, she tried to return to her book, but she felt like she was in an emotional tornado and the more she tried to slow it down the harder it pressed.

It wasn't just the encounter with Ron, it was the repressed dreams and missing her parents, and not being sure who she was anymore or where the whole damned world was headed. She felt the harsh sting of tears suddenly fill her eyes, accompanied by a sick swelling in her stomach.

She quickly tucked the book under her arm and nearly ran inside, where she was fortunate to avoid encountering any Weasleys. She sought the refuge of the guest bedroom where she had been staying and hurled herself face down on the bed, wanting badly to cry, to cry herself into sleep, but the tears just weren't coming.

Hermione sat upright in the bed and looked at herself in the mirror. Her face was pale and her eyes puffed and red. _Who is this girl?_ she found herself wondering as she gazed upon her own reflection. This certainly wasn't the same eager to please little bookworm who had gotten on the Hogwart's Express years ago.

"Well, this won't do" she finally muttered to herself, and used her wand to fix up her appearance. She needed to get out of the Burrow for the night, to clear her head a bit. The longer she stayed here, the more she remembered that the home she had known with her parents was gone.

She suddenly thought of Harry, and decided it was absolutely time to visit him. She had missed him terribly the past two weeks. Their time searching for horocruxes had brought them closer together than she thought possible, and when he wasn't near she felt almost fearful and frantic.

_Being around Harry will help_ she decided conclusively. Quickly, she packed a few things for the night and the decided she ought to tell Ron where she was headed.

She found him sleeping in his bed. Mud still on his clothes from chasing gnomes from the garden earlier in the day, he looked much like the 11 year old boy she had met on the Hogwarts Express. He lay curled up like a child, his knees drawn into his chest as his mouth lay gaping open, a faint snore coming from the back of his throat.

She sat on the edge of the bed and studied him closely, hoping his dreams were more pleasant than hers. From his even breathing and content expression she decided his dreams must be pleasant and she shouldn't wake him. She wondered if it was the happiness of her agreeing to be his "proper girlfriend" that allowed him to sleep so soundly. She hoped so.

She wrote him a note on a scrap of parchment explaining that she suspected Harry was at Grimmauld Place and she had decided to check up on him. The note also told Ron he ought to come to Grimmauld Place if he woke up. In truth, she hoped he wouldn't because she needed a little time to clear her head, but she didn't want him to be hurt that she ran off the first day of being his "proper girlfriend".

Before she left she gazed down at sleeping Ron once more, his peaceful breathing making her feel a bit more relaxed. Carefully she stroked a wild red strand of hair away from his face and kissed him softly on his brow, her eyelashes barely brushing his closed lids.

_

HARRY was just about bored out of his mind at Grimmauld Place. He sat in an armchair before the heath, one leg lazily hanging over the back as he twirled his wand through his fingers in an absent minded manner.

He had been unable to handle being at the Burrow much longer, and while Grimmauld Place held just as many haunting memories, it was easier than dealing with the whole social end of things. Here he could pace around and brood and nobody could give him any shit for it.

But, pace and brood though he had, he was no closer to feeling any sense of certainty about the future. If anything, he simply felt more bored and annoyed with himself. While there was still much to be done in the wizarding world, this was one of the longer periods of quiet time Harry had experienced since the day he turned 11. And he simply was unsure about what to do with himself.

A loud POP from the other room alerted Harry that he had a visitor. He didn't even have to try to flex his mental muscles to guess that it would be Hermione. Harry had told Ginny that he would be at Grimmauld Place in case she wanted to speak with him, but some part of Harry knew that wasn't about to happen soon. Harry liked to imagine Ginny showing up suddenly and throwing herself into his arms. He liked to imagine her saying she wanted to be with him, her soft pink lips on his again as the lilac smell of her fiery hair fills his senses. She was different than any girl he'd ever known, and he didn't want to lose her, but he didn't know what else to do but sit and wait and see.

"Harry?" called a voice that distinctly belonged to Hermione Granger.

"In here Hemione" Harry called back, his tone even and unaffected.

She entered the room cautiously, as though nervous she might be interrupting something. "I had a feeling I'd find you here."

"I knew you'd figure it out" he grinned. "After all, you are the cleverest witch for many billions of decades."

"That's severely exaggerated" she snorted. "Actually, the first witch to..."

"Ugh, please not a history lesson!" Harry groaned.

"Oh fine Potter" Hermione retorted. The friendly banter felt good. Normal. Right. She had become so easily comfortable around Harry. She sat in another plush arm chair besides him and they stared into the empty fire place, both lost in their own thoughts again.

Harry had allowed Kreacher to stay at the kitchens in Hogwarts. The work seemed to keep the angry old house elf busy, and there were too many memories associated with Grimmauld Place for either of them to be happy in each other's company. Thus, Harry had the obligation to offer Hermione a drink without the assistance of a house elf.

"Yes, I think that would be nice" she replied airily, as though still trapped in her own dream world.

Harry went into the kitchen and looked to see what he had to offer. He hadn't been terribly effective about shopping, although he had plenty of money in his vault at Gringotts. As he searched the dusty, cobwebbed cupboards he realized he didn't have as much as a single bag of tea. All he could find was a bottle of Ogden's Firewhiskey.

He returned to the sitting room where Hermione had curled her legs underneath her and was still staring at the empty fireplace. He cleared his throat and she nearly jumped. He held the bottle up sheepishly, and the sight of him standing there with a bottle of strong alcohol casually dangling from his hand made Hermione laugh.

"Oh, I know" Harry mumbled. "It's a bit pathetic how bad I am at shopping. I'll run to the store quick, what would you like?"

"Oh, don't bother" Hermione hurriedly responded. She didn't want him to leave, and she was too comfortable in the quietness of the house to go with him.

"Well... would you like some then?"

Hermione eyed the bottle somewhat suspiciously, trying to make up her mind. She remembered reprimanding Ron for trying to drink it, but they were over 17 now, and it was legal.

"Oh hell" she cursed. "Why not?"

Harry found two glasses and dusted them out. Hermione cast a spell to chill the glasses and they poured half a glass each. On the first sip, Hermione was disgusted, but soon she found herself liking the way the warm fluid settled in her stomach. She felt her nerves calming.

"I'm sorry to come bother you here; I know you wanted to be alone. I just wanted to check up on you."

He gave her a strange look, as though he knew that there was more to her visit than just fussing over his health and well-being. He knew her too well.

"Alright" she confessed with a sigh. "I suppose I've had quite a bit on my mind lately, and I needed somewhere quiet to go."

"It's hard to be around a family when yours is gone" he responded. She gave him a look of surprise. How had he known that was exactly how she felt? But of course, he had experienced that sensation much of his life.

"Do you plan to go back to Hogwarts?" she suddenly asked, wanting to change the topic. They had not breached this subject since the final battle. The school had once been a place of comfort and magic to them, but now it was battle field where many lives had been lost.

Harry stood, not answering right away, but finishing his firewhiskey with a long swig. He walked over to the fireplace and started some slow burning, blue flames. As he stood there, she watched him thinking of how different he looked. He had grown, and he was beginning to look more like a man. As he rested his elbow on the ledge above the fire place and leaned casually back she noticed how poised he had become, how comfortably he now moved in his own body. Awkward teenage years were starting to be behind them and she nearly blushed when she realized how attractive he had become.

"I have been thinking about Hogwarts a lot" he finally admitted, having found his tongue. "A large part of me doesn't want to go back. I'm afraid of facing the memories of those darkened corridors. I'm not sure that I'm ready to sit through classes or eat dinner in the Great Hall without Dumbledore there. I know it can never be the same again. And yet... I feel like I should go back. There are so many pieces left to be put back together, and Hogwarts is maybe where I should start. I'm not ready to tackle the political issues the Ministry of Magic is wading though. There is still a lot more I need to learn before I can be an auror as powerful as Kingsley. I do think, that I need to go back and finish the seven years I set out as an eleven year old to complete."

Harry had only just firmly arrived at the decision as he was talking to Hermione, and it felt good to have some resolution. Yes, he would go back to Hogwarts and face his demons. And along the way he would help mend the school so it could once more be the wonderful place that Albus Dumbledore had provided for Harry as a child.

Hermione smiled, pleased by Harry's answer. "Well, I'll be going back of course. I feel like I've been away from the library for far too long!"

They both laughed at this and Harry felt a sense of relief. Going back would undeniably be difficult, but it was something that needed to be done, and he knew it would be a lot easier with Hermione by his side.

He raised his glass to her. "To Hogwarts!"

_

THE next morning Hermione returned to the Burrow. Ron had not come to visit Grimmauld Place, and when she returned she found that he had only just awoken from a very long, but much needed sleep.

"So, did you see Harry?" Ron asked as he sat down to breakfast with Hermione.

"Yes, he was there as I suspected. We had quite a bit of Firewhiskey so I ended up sleeping in the guest bedroom."

Ron laughed suddenly, nearly choking on his porridge. "You? Drinking Firewhiskey? Well, I'm sorry I slept through it now!"

"Oh ha ha Ronald. But seriously, you ought to visit him. He seems alright, just a tad bored."

"Well, he knows where I live" Ron said defensively. Hermione rolled her eyes, deciding not to get in the middle of a battle of male pride.

"But listen, I was thinking... now that you're my... well, my girlfriend" the tips of his ears burned red at the word, "I would like to take you out on a real date. Like what proper couples do and such."

She quickly accepted his request, liking the idea of being out of the house and of doing something a bit more normal than the same old hunting horocruxes, fighting dark wizards and trying to preserve Harry's life. After years of excitement and adventure, a simple dinner out sounded wonderful.

"Are you going to go back to Hogwarts?" she asked him suddenly, her conversation with Harry suddenly coming back to mind.

Ron looked suddenly uncomfortable, and his pleasure at the idea of a date drained from his face. He began to push his remaining food around with his spoon. "I sort of told George that I would help him with the business."

Hermione didn't know what to make of this. She felt education was incredibly important, but then she also knew how much George would need Ron at this time. "Ron... are you sure that's best?" she questioned, trying not to sound judgmental.

Despite her careful wording, Ron jumped up angrily. "I knew you wouldn't understand! Who needs seventh year after all we've been through? George and Fred never finished and they created a successful business, why should I go back and listen to dusty old professors? What is left at Hogwarts for me besides a pile of shitty memories and old pains?"

Hermione felt a sharp jolt of anger run through her. She had been passive for many weeks now, letting the hurt of others distract her from her own pain. But now he had hit a nerve and the careful walls she had assembled came crumbling down. "What about me Ron?" she shouted, louder than she had intended. "I'll be there, and so will Harry. I'm sorry that means nothing to you! I know you lost your brother, but we all lost a lot. The least you could do is not be such a git sometimes!"

Not wanting him to see her cry she turned sharply and ran to her room where she used enchantments to seal off her doors. And in the darkness of the dingy guest bedroom that had become the closest thing she had to home, Hermione Granger finally had a meltdown.

*AUTHOR'S NOTE: It's a slow start but eventual action, adventure and romance to come. If you like, please review. It's literally been 6 years since I've written fan fiction, but my distaste for the epilogue finally compelled me to write this!


	3. Chapter 3: Promise You This

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I do not own any of this. Also, the last line in the scene between Harry and Hermione is a lyric from Coldplay's "Sparks". The scene was partially inspired by the song, so if you like to listen while you read, enjoy.

Harry was in the process of deciding if he ought to change the color of the walls in his bedroom at Grimmauld Place when there was a loud POP notifying him that he had a visitor. He slowly stretched and decided company was much needed in his current state of boredom.

He half leaped down the stairs and was bounding around the corner when he nearly ran smack into his best friend, Ron Weasley.

"Oi, geez mate, watch where you're going!" Ron exclaimed, startled by the near collision.

"Sorry Ron, I wasn't expecting you to be standing there. I'm surprised to see you to be honest."

Ron dropped his eyes, suddenly becoming interested in the little circle patterns he was tracing on the floor with the dirty rubber soles of his sneakers. Harry knew Ron well enough to realize that the tall red head felt guilty for not visiting Harry, but would never confess to such things.

"It's fine Ron, I didn't even tell you where I was" Harry assured him. "I wanted to give you and your family some space, and I needed some time as well. But I'm beginning to believe I've had quite enough time. The silence is driving me bonkers!"

He had been hoping to get Ron to laugh, but something in his brown eyes told Harry he wasn't just feeling guilty about them having spent so much time apart.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Well, it's Hermione. She's locked herself up at the Burrow and she won't let anyone speak to her. Not even Ginny or Mum! At first I thought she was just mad at me..."

"What did you say this time?" Harry asked, a sense of annoyance rising up in him. When would Ron learn to stop putting his foot in his mouth?

"Well, it's not so much that... you see..." Ron rambled for a moment until Harry was just about shake him into getting to the point. "I told her I wouldn't be coming back to Hogwarts. Blimey Harry, I didn't expect her to get so upset about it. I know school is important to her but it's not like I don't have a plan, and we're wizards for heaven's sake, it's not as though I won't be able to visit you both all the time!"

Harry was set back by Ron's confession that he wasn't planning to finish out their seventh year at Hogwarts. He couldn't imagine not having his best friend there to play chess with in the Gryffindor common room, or to check out girls with. He could understand why Hogwarts wasn't a place Ron wanted to be, but it pained Harry to imagine a year without him there. It didn't seem right.

"Are you sure about this Ron? What about quidditch, and don't you want to try and see if maybe we can have something of a normal year at Hogwarts?" Harry joked lamely.

"There's no such thing as a normal year when you're friends with Harry Potter" Ron responded with what was meant to be a joke but came from his mouth with a tone of hostility which surprised them both.

Harry wasn't sure what to say to respond to his friend's harsh words. He knew they were true. If Ron and Hermione had never been friends with the Boy Who Lived, they may have experienced some dark days, but nothing of the magnitude he had brought upon them.

"Well, what of Hermione then?" Harry asked, needing to change the subject before it swallowed him whole.

Ron looked peculiar, like he was off balance, caught between apologizing to Harry and crying. But he did neither, took a deep breath and straightened out his spine. "Well, she's gone nutters I suspect. She's been locked in that room since around breakfast and it's getting quite late now, and I'm not sure what to do. You'd think she'd let me in since I'm her boyfriend and all..."

This news took Harry aback once more. Hermione hadn't mentioned it to him the night before. While he supposed it shouldn't surprise him, it still did somehow. He knew that Ron fancied Hermione and that her feelings ran quite deep for him in return. Yet somehow, he never saw them actually getting to the relationship stage.

He pushed that thought aside and looked at Ron who was nervously playing with his shirt sleeve. "So you want me to talk to Hermione?"

"You've always been better with this stuff mate, she listens to you better or something. I don't know, maybe she'll open the door for you."

Harry thought about the idea of getting in the middle of a Ron and Hermione battle and he didn't much like the thought of it. But then he realized there was probably a lot more to it than just a lovers' squabble. He remembered waking her up weeks ago, and the way she had screamed out in her sleep. He needed to make sure she was okay.

Ron and Harry apparated to the Burrow together, and when they arrived Ginny was sitting cross legged on the floor in front of the door to Hermione's room. She had been trying to coax her friend into opening up and talking, but she hadn't heard as much as a peep from Hermione in nearly a half hour.

"Well Ronald, you've really done it this time" Ginny cursed as she saw him and Harry coming up the stairs.

"I didn't mean for any of this to happen!" Ron shouted back, outraged that his little sister would pin all the blame on him.

"It's hardly worth fighting about" Harry advised, sliding to the floor beside Ginny. He felt a small rush being so close to Ginny, but she quickly stood, nervously tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Best of luck Harry" she nodded, not making eye contact. She nearly ran away to her room.

Harry felt confused by the exchange but knew it wasn't the right time to puzzle over the whole thing. He knocked gently on the door, but there was no response.

"Knocking huh? Good idea mate, we hadn't tried that one out yet."

Harry shot Ron a glare and tried again. Still no response. "Hermione" he called gently through the door. "It's me, Harry."

"I just want some time alone. What's all the fuss?" exclaimed voice that sounded very stuffed up and not well.

Harry felt a twinge of panic, he didn't want her to be sitting alone with her miseries. He wanted her to know she could talk to him, to trust him the way he had trusted her all these years. How could they go through so much and end up divided by a flimsy door?

"I want to talk" he demanded, his voice suddenly resolute.

On the very other side of the door Hermione sat, her head resting on her knees, wishing they would all just leave her alone. She was worn down, tired and confused. She was coming unraveled and she did not like the feeling of it at all. It was as though she could hardly breathe.

She heard the sternness in Harry's voice and it jolted her, but still she said nothing.

"Hermione, if you don't open this door I'll blast it to pieces" he warned. "Mrs. Weasley won't be too happy."

"I put enchantments on it" she argued back, feeling suddenly angry with the raven haired boy for being so stubborn and thick headed.

He snickered, further fueling her feeling of irritation. "You really think that would stop me? I mean, I may not be Albus Dumbledore but I do believe the supposed savior of the wizarding world should at least be powerful enough to break down a measly door."

"Fine, come in" she sighed, feeling tired and resigned.

Ron raised his eyebrows at Harry to show he was impressed and Harry slowly entered the room. It was entirely dark and it took his eyes a moment to adjust. He raised his wand and began to whisper "lumos" but Hermione yelled out, stopping him mid incantation.

"Please don't turn the light on" she asked, her voice sounding small and weary. The desperation in her tone pulled at his heartstrings, and he pocketed his wand, blindly seeking her out in the dark.

"I don't want you to see me like this" she explained. "I really don't know what's wrong with me, I'm sure it will all be better in the morning."

His eyes were finally adjusting and he could make out her silhouette, sitting hunched on the side of her bed. He carefully made his way to her, and she nearly jumped as she felt his arms wrap around her from the dark, pulling her against his chest.

As he held her, he could feel her body stiffen and then slowly relax into the embrace, trembling slightly. He held her tighter still and felt wet tears dampen the fabric of his shirt. She breathed in his scent and felt comforted, listening to the steady beat of his heart, reminding her that it had all been worth it, that he had lived.

His chest felt strong against her cheek, and his arms were tense with wiry muscle that made her feel secure. It was as though he were holding pieces of her together, keeping her from crumbling. Hadn't he always been her rock? He had been a beacon guiding her, giving her purpose when she was a scared muggle born in a strange new world. He had given her intelligence an outlet through their many adventures, allowing her to protect him with her careful logic and intellect. And when she had been alone or unsafe, he had always been there to protect her in return.

In his arms felt like the safest place in the world. It felt like the home she had lost.

"I'm sorry" she finally whispered, pulling herself away from his embrace slowly and wiping the tears that had streamed down her cheeks.

"For what?" he asked, surprised by her apology.

"For this mess I am right now. It's not like me you know, I'm usually..." she trailed off, lost for the words to describe herself.

"You're usually Hermione Granger" he finished simply. "Strong, brilliant and logical. But everyone has their moments of pain; Merlin knows I have had plenty. And if it hadn't been for you I may have never gotten better. So don't apologize. This is what best friends are supposed to do for each other."

"I miss my parents" she confessed. "Being here, at the Burrow, it doesn't help. I like being near Ron, and the Weasleys have been more than generous towards me, but this isn't my home."  
>"I know how you feel" Harry admitted. "Hogwarts was the first place that ever felt like home to me. The Dursley's was never a home. I mean, bloody hell, my bedroom was a broom closet!" He chuckled slightly at the absurdity of life.<p>

He couldn't see Hermione's horrified expression in the dark. She knew that Harry was not fond of his relatives, and that they did not have a good relationship, but she had not realized that they were abusive towards him. She didn't know what to say, so she just reached out and grabbed his hand tightly.

"I'm afraid that Hogwarts won't feel like home anymore when we go back" he admitted.

"I think... home needs to be what we make of it" Hermione responded, realizing the surprising truth in her own words. "Seven years ago, the three of us didn't even know each other, and now we share the closest of bonds, closer than family even."

"You're right" Harry agreed. "And that will have to be enough."

"That will have to be enough" Hermione repeated sleepily.

"You have to let yourself feel things though Hermione. Madam Pomfrey said that scars of the mind take much longer to feel than those of the body. But if you just ignore the pain, it can never heal. Take my word for it."

"I know you're right" she yawned, slowly laying down on the bed. The thin curtains of the bedroom window billowed with the gust of outside wind, leading them to dance like white ghosts in the otherwise dark room. Her eyes felt sore from crying, and her body felt entirely exhausted. She gazed up through the window as she rested her head on the soft pillow. She wondered at the future and what it might hold, but she tried not to worry this time. The future would come whether she was ready or not, and that would have to be alright. They were alive for now, and that would have to be enough.

She shivered from the cold breeze and Harry stood to close the window. When he returned he could tell by her breathing that she had fallen fast asleep. "Lumos" he whispered, generating a faint light from his wand. He leaned over her as she slept, her breath rising and falling softly. He studied her face, her beautiful features, her dark brown hair that fell in loose curls down her back. She looked frail in the pale light of his wand. She looked peaceful and innocent.

Suddenly he felt a great wave of protectiveness wash over him. She had been the truest friend he had known in all his life. Her compassion and genuine goodness comforted him. Her power and intelligence amazed him. And if he lost her, his life wouldn't be worth carrying on with.

He kissed her lightly on the cheek, just near the corner of her smooth lips. Just before he left he whispered into her ear, "I promise you this, I'll always look out for you."

_

WHEN Hermione awoke in the morning her head felt clear. She felt more of herself and she took her time choosing something nice to wear before going down to breakfast at the Burrow.

Ron was hastily shoveling spoonfuls of scrambled eggs into his mouth when Hermione came down the stairs to join them. His mouth was left gaping open as she arrived in the room, revealing a disgusting view of half chewed breakfast.

"Close your mouth Ron" Ginny scolded, looking up from the copy of the Daily Prophet she had set out before her.

Ron swallowed hard. "Blimey Hermione, you look... well you look great!"

"Thank-you Ron" Hermione blushed, sitting down to a simple grapefruit for breakfast. "I want to apologize... to you both for my behavior last night."

"No need to apologize!" Ginny exclaimed. "The war seems to have us all out of sorts still. I know I haven't been the best friend to you. And I certainly haven't been there for Harry."

The mention of Harry's name alerted Hermione to the fact that the dark haired boy was no where to be seen. "Did he go back to Grimmauld Place?"

"Yes" Ginny frowned. "I think he's hiding from me."

"Don't be daft Ginny, Harry's been crazy about you since the Yule Ball at the very least. If you still feel the same way about him, go visit him and snog him senseless and it will all be fine."

"Hey!" Ron exclaimed, little flecks of breakfast flying from his mouth. "They'll be no talk of my sister snogging anyone!"

Hermione laughed and Ginny stuck her tongue out at Ron. "I can do what I want Ronald. I'm a big girl now."

Hermione noticed a strange dip in Ginny's voice as she spoke, almost as she wasn't actually sure that she could make her own decisions. "Well Ginny, whatever you decide, you should probably talk to Harry soon. You can't leave him waiting around all summer."

Hermione was surprised that her tone was a bit irate, but then she realized she was a somewhat annoyed with the youngest Weasley. Of course the girl was confused and distraught, but Harry deserved so much more than cold ambivalence.

Ron broke the tension by suggesting that he and Hermione go to the Three Broomsticks for lunch. "You know, I proper date like I suggested yesterday?"

And so around noon they took the floo network to Hogsmeade. It was an entirely different site than it had been just before the final battle. People were out wandering the streets once more, happily checking out the shops as children chased one another around. The weather was clear and warm and it lifted Hermione's heart to see that the wizarding world was coming back out of the shadows and returning to the magical and magnificent state she had fallen in love with.

As Ron and Hermione walked hand in hand down the cobblestone street, witches and wizards of all ages openly stared. _Now I know what it's like to be Harry _Hermione realized, deeply uncomfortable with the gawking. Some even stopped mid-step to point the couple out gasping, "look! it's Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger!" Several times, random groups of strangers broke into applause, crying out their thanks to the conquering heroes.

Hermione was infinitely relieved when they finally arrived in the smoky privacy of the Three Broomsticks. They were quickly ushered to a back corner where they could hide from the staring eyes of strangers. She slumped into her seat with a long sigh.

"How long do you think we'll have to deal with this?" she groaned.

"What'dyah mean?" Ron asked, his face flush with excitement. "We changed the course of the entire wizarding world Hermione. We deserve some well earned respect!"

She could tell he was quite enamored by the sudden tide of attention and fame, and it concerned her that it would go to his head much like the time he had become Gryffindor's champion keeper. But she didn't want to rain on his parade and so she just gave him a small smile and buried her face in the menu.

Once they had ordered they were brought a few rounds of butter beer, courtesy of the owner. Hermione found that the delicious drink loosened her tongue and it was time to talk about the argument they had gotten into the night before. "I want you to know Ron, that I understand your reasons for not going back to Hogwarts. Admittedly, I am disappointed, but if what will make you happy you have every right to make that choice."

He took her hand from across the table. "Listen, I won't be far off. I talked to George, he's been slowly coming back to himself. And he thinks we ought to expand into right here in Hogsmeade. That was one of the reasons I wanted to bring you here today. George is going to buy up the old Zonko's joke shop and we'll turn it into a Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. I'll be running the whole thing!"

He smiled proudly, leaning across the table and surprising her with a kiss. "You see? I'll be right near Hogwarts. You'll hardly notice I'm missing."

"Well that's brilliant Ron" she smiled, feeling warm and comfortable, and with each passing moment she seemed to gain hope that things would be alright again.

_

HARRY puzzled over the letter that had arrived by owl at Grimmauld Place. Grimmauld Place was supposed to be well hidden, and it concerned him that some stranger had found his location.

The mail read like a piece of fan mail, but Harry's mail was supposed to get forwarded to a vault at Gringotts. According to the goblins he was amassing a dangerous stack of letters and gifts from admirers and well-wishers, however, he had no intention of reading any of them. He was especially wary of gifts after the Romilda Vane incident.

The letter was strange to be certain. Written in elegant, cursive lettering, none of the spells he had attempted had revealed who the writer was. Whoever it was had taken careful measures to conceal his or her identity.

"Dear Mr. Potter" it read. "I am writing to you to convey my most sincere gratitude for your work in slaying the hideous creature that was Voldemort, or as you and I may call him, Tom Riddle. I have been watching you progress as a wizard for quite some time. To be honest, I have followed nearly every trial and tribulation of your youth since you were one and Riddle murdered your parents.

I have grown increasingly impressed with your power. Without a doubt you are destined to become one of the strongest wizards our world has ever known. But only time may determine that for certain. One thing I can say with utter positivity is that your destiny did not end with the passing of the wretched, so-called Dark Lord.

I was patient in waiting for you to dispose of Riddle, and I am deeply pleased that you came through for me in the end. It is not quite time for us to meet yet, but I can assure you that when we do the wizarding world will enter upon an era unlike anything it has ever known.

Until then, please forgive my anonymity. I am sending only the best of wishes to you, Mr. Potter."

Harry had read the letter numerous times and wasn't sure what to make of it. How closely had Mr. Anonymous been watching him all these years, and why? What did he mean by patiently waiting for Harry to destroy Voldemort?

There was a suspicious air to it all, not the least of which was the mystery of how Mr. Anonymous had directed an owl to Grimmauld Place. Harry felt unsettled by the letter, but did not want to let it get into his head too much. War had made him paranoid, he was sure of that. Still, he carefully locked the letter in his trunk, determining that he ought to talk to someone about it eventually.

Just then he heard a loud POP from downstairs. His nerves on edge, he prepared his wand and cautiously walked towards the sound. As he peered over the balcony he quickly recognized Ginny's eyes gazing up at him. He slid his wand back into his pocket.

"Hello Ginny" he greeted, feeling a fluttery sensation in his stomach.

"Hi Harry" she responded as he came down the stairs towards her. She had her arms crossed over her chest in an almost defensive stance.

"What brings you here?" he asked, hoping, praying she would say that she missed him.

"I think I'm finally ready to talk."

"Well, please, let's take seat" he offered awkwardly, gesturing to the sitting room. He sat on the couch and she positioned herself in an armchair at a considerable distance away.

He thought to offer her some tea, but then remembered that he didn't have any. He felt a swelling of discomfort in his stomach. He hadn't felt this sort of awkwardness since Cho Chang's teary kiss.

"Harry, you know, I've been in love with you since I was a child" she began. "Or at least I thought it was love... you have always been everything I wanted in a man. Humble, kind hearted, brave, athletic, smart... how could a girl not be in love? I think, part of me, will always be in love with you Harry. But there's another part that knows it will never work."

Harry swallowed hard, wanting to yell at her, or walk away, or do something to display his emotions, but he found himself just sitting there, staring into her light brown eyes.

"Do you remember, after Dumbledore died, and you told me we couldn't be together?" she laughed a dry, humorless laugh. "And I knew, that as long as Voldemort lived, you wouldn't be happy unless you were chasing him. And I admired that about you, and all the time while you were gone was like hell for me worrying about you and Ron and Hermione. But I kept thinking, that eventually you would defeat him, and then we could be together. But now I know, that will never be the case. You're Harry Potter... there will always be evil and you will always chase it. And I will always love you for that, but I can't be around it anymore. My war is done, and I need to move on."

Harry wanted to argue, say that he was done being everyone's pet hero, that he was done chasing evil. He wanted to tell her she was being unreasonable, that he had never wanted to be the so-called Chosen One, that it was unfair that he could have no peace or normalcy in his life. But he knew it was all a waste of breath, because he knew she was right. He had brought the people he loved most into the jaws of death, and he couldn't expect them to be willing to risk that again. And he knew the dark times were not ended. He was only 18 and already he'd seen many faces of evil. He would probably see many more, and he would have to be the one to deal with it. Alone.

Ginny seemed to take in a long breath of relief, feeling lighter for having expressed the heavy thoughts on her mind. While tears had silently streamed down her ivory cheeks, there was a look of peace in her eyes. Harry, for his part still said nothing. He was silent at her tears. Silent as she slowly wiped them away, and tore her gaze away from his. Silent as she gently kissed him on the forehead. Silent as she left.

And then, in the darkness of Grimmauld Place, Harry Potter cried.


	4. Chapter 4: Hogwarts

As the summer wore on, Hermione found herself spending increasing time at Grimmauld Place with Harry. Ron would frequently join them, but most of his energy was focused on getting Weasley's Wizard Wheezes up and running. In Harry's boredom he allowed Hermione to talk him into studying with her, and they both found that during their horocrux hiatus some of their skills had become a bit rusty. More so Harry's than Hermione's of course.

But when studying and lessons became all too dull, they took to restoring Grimmauld Place, making it less dusty and gloomy and more habitable and like a home. They even went grocery shopping on a regular basis.

By the time school came around the two could not be more glad to escape the boredom of their summer. They had both taken painstaking measures to avoid the public, even going so far as to shop at muggle stores when they needed things. Neither Harry nor Hermione could stomach the adoring public.

On the morning it was time to leave for the Hogwarts Express, Hermione carefully packed her trunk. As she carefully folded her uniform and robes, and delicately stacked her books inside she felt a great swell of nostalgia. She remembered her first time doing this, a bushy haired eleven-year-old who kept checking, double checking and re-checking her things to make sure that she hadn't forgotten anything of importance. She hadn't been able to catch a wink of sleep the night before, half out of excitement and half out of fear.

She wondered what this year would hold. Over the summer she and Harry had been visited by Professor McGonagall who wanted to speak to them in person about the opportunity of serving as head girl and head boy. At first Harry had been resistant, not wanting more responsibility thrust upon him. But Hermione reminded him that it had been he who had voiced the desire to help restore Hogwarts, and how better to do that and as head boy?

And so she and Harry would don the badges of head boy and girl for their final year at Hogwarts. She left for Platform 9 ¾ with Ginny, who would be in their graduating class now. It felt almost a bit sad that those they had started with; Neville, Seamus, Dean... had all graduated and were gone now.

They arrived at the station and went through the unpleasant experience of plummeting headfirst into the barrier at Platform 9 ¾. Once there, the atmosphere was buzzing with excitement as children ages eleven to eighteen waited for the train. Hermione could not help but smile.

She spotted Harry who was sitting on his trunk talking to Luna as a group of gawking first year students just barely kept their distance, mouths gaping with excitement at being so close to THE Harry Potter. A few nosey parents even snapped photos of him from the distance, babbling about how so-and-so from next door would be so jealous, or "do you wonder if the Daily Prophet would pay me for a photo like this?"

Hermione tried to ignore the scene as quickly people were murmuring about her as well and a few comments could even be heard about Ginny, whose actions in the final battle had become entirely blown out of proportion.

"REALLY PEOPLE?" Ginny finally exclaimed out loud, after overhearing a particularly imaginative tale of how she had destroyed three death eaters in a single spell. She shook her head at the distaste of it all.

"Hey Harry" Hermione greeted when they finally edged their way close enough.

"Hi Hermione" he greeted, with a genuine smile that warmed her heart.

Although less than a year prior, Luna had spent months as a prisoner in the Malfoy Manor one would not have guessed by Luna's typical serene nature. "Hello Hermione. Hello Ginny. I was just telling Harry about a particularly interesting article about Grindylow mating rituals. It was written by Rolf Scamander, grandson of the famous Newton Scamander. Rolf is every bit as brilliant as his grandfather, and much more handsome based on pictures I've seen" she concluded dreamily.

"Interesting" Hermione responded, not sure what else to say. She saw a flash of laughter in Harry's eyes and nearly giggled.

Ginny was keeping off at a slight distance, seemingly not listening to Luna's rambling. Harry tried hard not to look at her, but he couldn't help but observe that she looked as pretty as ever, and it felt like a knife in his chest every time he managed a side-long glance.

With a long whistle the Hogwarts Express came puffing into the station, greeted by the gasp and cheers of many first years whom, to Harry's eye, looked impossibly young. _Was I really that small when we retrieved the Sorcerer's Stone? _he wondered with amusement.

Hermione for her part, was thinking deeply about the dream she had of sending her own children off on the Hogwart's Express one day. She was hardly able to focus on anything except for how vivid that dream had been. Ron her husband, Ginny and Harry, brother and sister-in-law. In the dream she could even see Draco Malfoy boarding his own son on the train. Could it ever be a reality? It had felt too hazy and... unlikely? She didn't want to admit that to herself. Had she become such a pessimist that she didn't believe that one day, life could be happy and peaceful?

There was a long whistle as the train came chugging to a halt at the platform.

"Well, here we go" Harry whispered in her ear. "Another year at Hogwarts. Are you ready?"

She took his hand, and they boarded the train.

*********************

Arriving at the station, thestrals awaited the students to bring them to the castle. Hermione had never been able to see them before, but the war had exposed her to death many times over. She supposed that many of the returning students could now see the morbid, horse-like creatures.

As they rode up to the castle, many felt tense, not sure what to expect. The final battle had left much of the castle in ruins, but Professor McGonagall had assured them that volunteers from around the world had flooded in to help repair the historic school and show their gratitude to those who had made their stand there.

It seemed that the volunteers had done an astonishing job. The rubble, the broken walls, the blood soaked grounds... they had all been returned to normal, as if it was nothing more than a bad dream. The only change they could see as they arrived was a large monument that had been erected at the front of the school.

This is where the thestrals dropped the students off, and they all curiously crowded around the statue that appeared to be a large sword, pointed up towards the sky. On closer inspection, the marble monument closely resembled the sword of Gryffindor. Inscribed beneath were the words, "MAY WE REMEMBER THAT ONLY WHEN WE FIND COURAGE, MAY WE DEFEAT THE COWARDICE OF EVIL".

Beneath the bold inscription was a list of the names of all who had fallen. Ginny cried softly as she ran her fingers across FRED WEASLEY and Harry turned away, unable to stomach seeing Tonks and Lupins names there, amongst the many others. He headed for the great hall, the feeling of hopefulness somewhat sinking from his stomach as flash back after flash back flooded his mind.

Hermione kneeled gently besides Ginny, softly squeezing the younger girl's shoulder as a sign of comfort. Ginny wiped her tears away, suddenly aware that many eyes were watching her. It was clearly going to be a very long year.

"C'mon Ginny" Hermione said softly, "let's go inside. It's time to put the past behind us." But even as Hermione spoke those words it seemed fickle. How could they just move on? All she could see in her head right now was Hagrid, carrying Harry's limp body just meters away from this very spot. She wished she had Ron's hand in hers right now, as she had that terrible night.

The Great Hall looked exactly as it had their first day at Hogwarts. First years gasped at the enchanted ceiling, and she even heard one little girl cite "Hogwarts, A History". Despite herself, Hermione smiled. She spotted Harry at the Gryffindor table, fidling with his head boy badge with uncertainty. She sat down next to him, and then, looking into his eyes, she realized how deeply troubled he was.

"What is it Harry?" she whispered, as many took their seat around them.

"It's just a lot to handle. I literally died here not many months ago. Think about that." He seemed to be trying to make some sort of joke, but humor did not fill his tone.

"I try not to think about it Harry" Hermioned quickly responded, upset that he had brought back that memory she had only just vanquished from thought. She wanted to comfort him, but she was unable. Instead she interested herself in playing with the utensils set out before her, trying to keep tears at bay. She had made a promise that she would be strong through it all.

Once everyone was seated and the first years collected at the front of the room, Head Mistress McGonagall stood, quickly creating a hushed silence around the room. Harry studied the aging professor and felt a sudden sense of peace at the sight of her. She may not be Dumbledore, but McGonagall had always shown her support to Harry, and she had shown great courage many times. Harry admired her- she was a reminder of all that was good about Hogwarts.

"As you know, we start this year with a note of sorrow. At the end of last semester, we all lost friends, family, and all around wonderful witches and wizards. They died on these very grounds protecting what they most believed in. Many of you stood side by side as evil showed it's face on the doorstep of this beloved school. We truly saw the face of evil that night, and it will never leave us.

But I urge you, do not let the hatred of others darken these halls that have always been so filled with hope. Hogwarts has seen many secrets, and often too much blood. But it has also seen boys and girls transform into great men and women. It has seen fascinating lessons about the magical world in which we live. It has seen spirited battles fought out on the quidditch pitch. It has seen love, trust and friendship blossom. Hogwarts is a truly wonderful place, and we cannot let the actions of evil destroy that for us. It is my sincere hope and belief that this year will be one of the greatest in Hogwarts' history."

Before McGonagall was able to finish a huge roar of applause had filled the Great Hall, not the least of which was contributed by Harry, Ginny and Hermione who had risen to their feet and were quickly followed by the rest of the students. The applause escalated into a chanting of the school song, "Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Hoggy Hogwarts."

The sound of voices joined in the celebration lifted Harry's spirits and reminded him once more why it had all been worth it, and suddenly he could not say he had a single regret. Life had led him here, and there wasn't any place else he'd rather be. He slipped his hand into Hermione's briefly and she squeezed it tightly before letting go.

The rest of the night resumed just as it had for centuries. The sorting hat sang its song and the first years were sorted into their houses. A great feast appeared at the tables and the students dug in greedily, eating until they were very nearly ill. At the end of it all, prefects led the student up to the dorms along with Harry and Hermione serving as head boy and girl.

A great perk to Harry and Hermione's elevated status at Hogwarts was that they each got their own bedrooms. Harry inspected his room happily, feeling as though he had returned home somehow. He opened the windows and looked out over the dark grounds of Hogwarts, relaxing against the sill as he marveled at how the stars reflected so brightly in the lake below. McGonagall was right, it would be a good year.

**********************

Harry had nearly fallen asleep in his clothes, resting in his bed when Hermione suddenly came barging through the door and startled him from his relaxation.

"Bloody hell Hermione, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" he scowled, lazily sitting upright in his bed. "What if I had been getting undressed or something?"

Hermione blushed slightly at the thought, but still remained resolute. "Harry, you daft fool, we have to do rounds."

"Ugggh" he grumbled. "I forgot why I didn't want to be head boy." 

"Yes, well, too late now" she sighed. "You can take the halls on the east side of the castle and I will take the west. With any luck we can get through this quickly enough to be back to bed within two hours."

"Two hours?" Harry blurted out. He rolled his eyes as they left Gryffindor tower. "I thought maybe I'd get some decent sleep for the first time in months, but so much for that."

"Are you still having trouble sleeping?" she asked, a note of concern in her voice.

"Every night" he admitted. "I dream I'm dead again, and I'm talking to Dumbledore, but this time, I choose to stay and not go back to the fight. And I see the faces of everyone I've ever lost, and I feel an overwhelming sense of peace... but then they all start to sort of rot slowly, and I realize that I'm dreaming, that each and every one of them is rotting in the ground, and I wake up and I'm still alive."

Hermione was suprised by the vivid detail in which he described his dream. "Oh Harry" she sighed. "Life has never been easy on you."

"But it could be worse" Harry shrugged. And then with a smile he added, "I could be Draco Malfoy."

***********************

Hermione wandered the hallways, her wand a glow, casting eerie shadows from the stone walls. Outside the moon was in crescent shape, and she halted at a large window to look out at the silver light it cast, covering the tree tops of the Forbidden Forest.

There were so many secrets to the world of magic, so many adventures lurking in the distance. That was one of the things she had fallen in love with about the wizarding world; the endless possibilities. Looking out into the dark night, it was hard not to feel that old twinge of excitement well up in her stomach, that insatiable lust for mystery and adventure.

Early in the summer, she had wondered if the horrors of war may have killed her desire to learn and explore, if it may have turned her timid. In fact, it would only be logical to be fearful after all she had seen, done, and lost. But somehow, that part of her that needed to solve the next puzzle was still deeply there, a part of her. And as she realized this, she felt like she remembered who she was, and it was a deeply peaceful feeling.

She relaxed against the window fully now, watching as a faint breeze whispered across the tree tops, sending each leaf dancing in the night air. She pressed her face against the cool glass and allowed herself a moment of tranquility.

Suddenly, someone grabbed her from behind, and she tried to scream but a hand was clamped firmly over her mouth. As she attempted to pull herself from the grasp of her capture she heard a familiar chuckle.

"HARRY!" she yelled as he gently let her go. "You could have scared me to death!"

"I'm sorry" he laughed, sounding truly apologetic. "You just looked like you were on a whole other planet, and I couldn't help myself."

She marveled at how quietly he had approached her. Studying him in the faint glow of the moonlight, she once more noted how athletic and nearly graceful he had become; he was no longer the gawky teen she had known for so many years. He would truly be a great auror one day.

Despite her thoughts, she scowled at him. "There's no way you finished your rounds already."

"That's because I realized how stupid it all was. Why walk all over this damned castle when I have this?" He unfolded the Marauder's Map with a grin at his own cleverness. "See, no insolent children wandering the hallways. Just you and I!"

She pulled the map out of his hands and saw that he was speaking the truth. "It just feels like cheating somehow" she sighed, folding the map back up and handing it to him.

"Well, call it what you will, but it's a time saver, that's for sure."

"So, what now, you're going to head to bed?"

"No, I'm sort of wired now. Let's go exploring."

She gaped at him. "Honestly Harry, we're head boy and girl now, we can't just be gallivanting around the grounds at all hours of the night."

"Why not? We always did before! And what's the fun of being head boy and girl if you're just being good all the time?"

She found herself oddly without an answer to this. With a fair measure of exasperation she agreed to his proposal, and so they proceeded to wander Hogwarts grounds, creeping through the hallways and avoiding the lazily dozing paintings. It was just as it had been before the war, except they were without Ron, and they both resolved that next time they would have to drag their red headed friend out of Hogsmeade for their adventuring.

Harry was just glad that Hermione had agreed that there would be a next time.

***************************

The next morning began the chaos of classes. Harry's first class of the day was advanced defense against the dark arts, and he was very curious to meet the professor. The night before there had been a noticeable seat empty at the head table of the Great Hall, and there had been whispers about who might be teaching the subject (which was notorious for having a different instructor each year).

Hermione had opted to take advanced healing instead, saying that she had quite enough of dark arts for a while. And so Harry found himself with only a handful of other students as they awaited for the arrival of their mysterious professor.

The door in the back of the classroom opened and the students craned their necks to see who had entered. A tall man with broad shoulders came sweeping into the classroom, his robes billowing out behind him in a way that would have made Severus Snape jealous. The man had a muscular but slender build, and was not very old, perhaps a bit younger than Harry's father would have been. He had dark but handsome features, a shadow of stubble matching his black hair. In some ways, he actually resembled an older Harry.

He took his place at the front of the classroom and then smiled at the students, easing their tension. "Hello, my name is Jonathan Freeman. I will be your defense against the dark arts teacher for this year. I know that I have some large shoes to fill... the noble Remus Lupin, the stoic Mad Eye Moody, and... the truly heroic Severus Snape."

Professor Freeman looked directly at Harry as he said this last part, and a hurried whisper rose up from the other students who had last known Snape as a death eater and murderer. Harry wondered how this peculiar new professor knew the truth about Severus Snape.

"Severus Snape was a spy against the Dark Lord, a man who was not known for being fooled easily. He kept his spine through many difficult situations, and for that we all owe him much gratitude. And let this be my first lesson to you... nothing is at it seems."

He paused for a moment, letting this sink in with the flustered students. "That being said, I do hope that you may learn some things of great importance from me. As you may guess from my accent, I am not from Britain but was born in raised in the United States. I have spent the past 20 years as a part of what we in the States call the Invisible Force which is much like your aurors, but a bit more secretive and international. I have seen a great variety of dark magic, and I am here to warn you that dark magic can have many more faces than that of Voldemort."

He smiled once more, showing a row of pearly white teeth. But his smile was reassuring, genuine somehow, in a way that Lockhart had never been. "Enough of the heavy stuff. I am truly honored to be teaching at the school that vanquished the Dark Lord. I must say, I am quite flattered to be teaching THE Harry Potter. Yes, we know your name even in the U.S. of A. I dare say, there are many things I could learn from you."

Freeman's dark grey eyes held Harry's gaze for a moment, conveying a look of true admiration. Then he turned to the board and proceeded to write down two words, "Les Maudites". He turned back to the classroom and eyes them carefully.

"Translation?" he finally asked.

A Ravenclaw student slowly raised her hand, "It's French" she explained, sounding a bit like Hermione in the process. "It means The Damned".

"Precisely" Professor Freeman said with charming smile. "But what does it refer to?" he looked around, but saw only puzzled faces staring back at him. "It is a term for a very old type of dark magic, I am not surprised you have never heard of it. It is nearly impossible to read about it in any books these days, and is known to few. Les Maudites are a type of wizard or witch that are marked by death. Their powers are unstoppable. They do not require a wand to perform magic. They can destroy or create with a mere thought. They can perform magic and create potions that would be simply impossible to the rest of us. In essence, they would make Voldemort look like a whimpering baby."

There was uneasy laughter at this analogy. "Fortunately" he continued, "there has not been one known to the wizarding world in thousands of years. They are very rare, as you can imagine. The circumstances in which they must be created are precise, and difficult to replicate. So why am I discussing them you ask? Because, I want you to always be prepared. There are a great many things in the wizarding world that are peculiar and unexpected. To expect the unexpected is the most important quality of any great witch or wizard."

The remainder of the class was spent reviewing past spells and incantations. Harry decided that he liked Professor Freeman, and was hopeful that it would be a year of learning things of great use.

After classes had ended for the day, Harry headed to the Quidditch pitch for some relaxing flying. He flew lazy circles up in the sky, thinking about the day and wondering about the future. Suddenly, he remembered the letter from Mr. Anonymous still in his trunk. He had meant to discuss the matter with someone, but most of the people he had typically gone to were dead now. He thought about bringing up to Hermione, but it would only make her worry. Perhaps he would see what Professor Freeman made of it... but he'd have to be sure he fully trusted the man first. Besides, he hadn't received another letter since. There didn't appear to be any real urgency in dealing with the matter.

He took in a long breath as he sat far above the stadium, and looked at how the setting sun melted into the clouds. He felt almost light, as though a burden had been lifted from his shoulders, and he couldn't remember feeling so... himself... in years. He steadied his broom, and without further delay kicked it directly downwards, spiraling into a Wonsky Feint at break-neck speed.

Far below, Hermione had been waiting for Ron who was supposed to walk up from Hogsmeade and meet her at the Quidditch pitch to go for a walk. She had seen Harry circling lazily in the sky, and as he came downward she felt a pang of fear for him due to the rate in which he was descending. Of course, he leveled out easily just before hitting the grassy terrain, and then was swooping upwards once more.

She rolled his eyes at him. _Of course he's fine_ she thought, the wind gently playing with her brown curls. _Harry fall off a broomstick? Never._ Although she was not a huge fan of Quidditch (she often secretly studied when the games got dull), she had always admired Harry's raw talent for the sport. Watching him fly gave her a lighthearted feeling.

"Hiyah" greeted a husky voice from behind her. She spun to see Ron standing there, his hands shoved nervously in his pocket.

"Ron" she smiled, hugging his neck and kissing his cheek.

"Is that Harry up there?" he asked, squinting hard.

"Yes, looks like he's having some fun for himself. I'm sure you could join him if you'd like."

"And leave my girl on the ground?" he scoffed. "C'mon then, how about a walk around the lake before the sun goes down?"

"Sounds good" she smiled, linking arms with him.

From high above the ground Harry watched the two, and he felt a pang in his chest and wished it would go away. He ought to be happy for the two of them, they were alive, safe and together. And he was happy for that. _It's just loneliness_ he told himself, diving into a barrel roll in hopes of clearing his fuzzy mind. But was it really?

He had been in love with her since he could remember. She had given everything to him, and how could he not be desperately in love with someone who could give that much of themselves? Besides, she was brilliant, and funny, and beautiful... _God is she beautiful _he thought to himself, suddenly wishing he had smashed into the ground on that last dive. He knew how Ron and Hermione felt for each other, and he had been desperate not to ruin that. He didn't want to acknowledge his feelings for her, but now that all was quiet he couldn't quite ignore them.

He had truly had feelings for Ginny, feelings that still lingered like a wound that wouldn't heal. But they weren't comparable to the love he had felt for his best friend since he was eleven. She was really the only one alive who had been unfailingly loyal to him. Ron had been a wonderful friend, but he also had a flare of jealousy and bad temper that had come between them at times. No, only Hermione had stood by Harry's side through it all.

He flew higher and higher up into the air, until the clouds blocked out the sight of the happy couple walking hand-in-hand. At this height he felt cold and he shivered a bit. _I'm just lonely _he tried to tell himself again. He braced himself to dive once more. _If I hit the ground this time, fuck it._


	5. Chapter 5: Heart's Desire

It was now nearly a month into the school year, and Harry felt run down with all that had been going on. While Professor Freeman's class was deeply interesting, he was also relentless with homework assignments, and Harry felt he had spend countless hours scribbling down essays on roll after roll of parchment. On top of that, he had his duties as head boy, his other classes, and as the captain of the quidditch team he had been conducting tryouts for the past week.

He returned to his bedroom soaking with sweat from practice, his quidditch robes still on and well covered in grass stains and dirt. He flopped onto his bed with a heavy sigh of exhaustion, burying his face in the soft blankets that were coaxing him to ignore the piles of homework and give into sleep instead.

After a moment's internal struggle he heavily lifted himself from his covers and proceeded to undress from his practice garments. He was glad for one thing he decided as he tossed his shirt on the floor. Being infinitely busy had kept his mind from going to any of the dark places it was tempted to travel. He had little time to think about how much he missed his deceased friends, and even less time to pity himself for being single and without family.

Just as he realized that there was a silver lining to the cloud in his mind, his door popped open and he barely had a moment to grab his discarded shirt off the floor to block the view of his more personal regions before Hermione came bustling in.

"HERMIONE!" he shouted. "Do you ever knock?"

Hermione blushed a violent red and turned her eyes away, but not before taking a quick moment to gape at the growing definition in his arms and chest. Then she blushed even more.

"I'm sorry Harry" she said, but her voice betrayed a slight bit of laughter.

"Turn around" he demanded, and she obeyed, allowing his to quickly put his pants back on.

When she turned back he still stood there shirtless, and she felt a strange sense of uncomfortable as she realized that her wandering eyes were taking the initiative of checking out her best friend. _Well, not the first time _she admitted to herself with a bit of exasperation.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, and she realized this was the second time he was repeating himself. She had been too busy staring at his athletic build that she hadn't even heard him the first time.

"Um... oh, right. We were supposed to be studying for Advanced Charms no?"

"Yes, I'll meet you in the library. Just let me shower and... dress." He eyed her suspiciously and then silently she backed out the door with a great deal of awkwardness. Harry stood there a moment, unsure what to think, and then he simply laughed.

" " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " "

Harry and Hermione had been studying for what felt like hours and his eyelids were getting impossible heavy. He yawned, stretching his arms in a gross demonstration of exhaustion.

"Yawn all you want Harry, you're not going to bed" Hermione advised, not looking up from the parchment on which she was furiously scribbling. "We still have another chapter to get through."

He looked at her glumly, but she ignored him, so he turned his attention to the darkened window, staring blankly into nothingness. When he finally spoke she nearly jumped, as the library had grown so quiet that the only sound accompanying her intense studying was the scratching of her quill. "A year ago I never would have guessed that this is where we would be. Just studying, the most normal, dull thing ever. Actually, a year ago I wouldn't have thought we would live to be this old."

She stopped writing and looked up at him, realizing how lucky were in that moment, to be together, alive and in the safety of the library studying. Harry looked deeply pensive in that moment, his emerald eyes glazed over, the faint, flickering light on their lantern casting sharp shadows across his face.

_He's beautiful_ she realized with sudden jolt. She had always found Harry to be attractive, and had even carried a bit of a silly girlish crush on him their first couple years at Hogwarts. But in this moment she realized that he was nearly heart breakingly beautiful to her. She tore her eyes away and went back to her work.

She jumped once more after a long pause without him speaking. "Have you ever heard of Les Maudites?"

"The damned?" she asked, furrowing her brow in a way that he couldn't help but notice was sort of adorable. "That's what it means right? In French?"

"Do you speak French?" he asked with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

"A little. But no, I don't believe I know the context you're referring to."

He waved his hand as if to push the thought away. "I don't even know what just made me think of it. Professor Freeman mentioned it the first day of classes and it just popped into my head."

"Well, if you're interested in learning more, we ARE in a library."

"He said that Les Maudites are so ancient and rare they are hard to find information about. Anyways, I don't really care much."

It was her turn to give him a skeptical look, and she pushed his book closer to him. "Let's finish this already, okay?"

"Oh fine" he sighed, picking up his quill and getting back to work.

" " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " "

Hermione was headed down to Hogsmeade to visit her boyfriend, and fulfilling her head girl duties of guiding the students there for their weekend trip. Harry walked far off in front of her, surrounded by a group of girls who seemed to endlessly find their way to slipping their arms through his, even when he shook them off.

It would have been amusing if it hadn't pissed her off so much. Of course girls would flock around Harry, he was one of the most famous wizards of all time; humble, heroic, wealthy and attractive. And most importantly, he was single. So it shouldn't have been bothering her really. Still, she found herself staring daggers in their general direction, wishing the display would just stop.

When they got into Hogsmeade there was a bustling of shoppers who were thrilled to see Harry Potter approaching the little wizarding village. "LOOK" shouted a man, "IT'S HARRY POTTER!"

There was a roar of applause and excitement, and she saw that Harry had ditched the flock of adoring females and was running in search for some privacy. _Poor Harry_ Hermione thought, pulling up her hood. He hated attention but he was terrible at discretion. She kept her head down as she passed through the overzealous crowds of people, making her way to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

She let out a sigh of relief as she finally squeezed past the last group of people and heard the welcoming "ding" of a bell as she entered the colorful shop. Children of all ages were gathered around different displays as she made her way past the aisles of pranks of all sorts. There was a loud BANG and a roar of laughter as one child was on the receiving end of an exploding practical joke. Hermione grinned, glad to see that a store was doing so well.

As she reached the back of the store, she saw a large group of girls clustered around the counter. They seemed very interested in something there, and they giggled in a nauseatingly flirtatious manner. And then she heard a familiar voice rising up from the group.

"...and that was when I realized that if we were going to win the chess match, I was going to have to sacrifice myself. Harry has never been much of a chess player, but he trusts me like a brother yah know? So there I was, only eleven years old, staring down this massive white queen piece..."

Ron stopped mid-sentence as his girlfriend emerged from the center of the girls who had surrounded him. "Ah Hermione! I was just telling everyone about the time we found the Sorcerer's Stone!"

He reached out to touch her arm but she jerked away, causing the girls around her to gasp slightly at the drama of witnessing a lovers spat between the most famous young couple in the world of magic. They had read all about the relationship between the two in Witch Weekly. They were like wizarding royalty.

"Ron, can we please speak in the back?" she asked, her voice tense.

"Sure" he shrugged, but his eyes showed that he knew he was in trouble, and his face paled a bit.

Once they were behind closed doors she whirled around quickly on him, a flash of anger in his eyes. Ron suddenly remembered how powerful she was and got a bit frightened, backing up a step.

"How dare you Ronald Weasley?"

"I don't understand..."

"You don't understand? Is this what you do everyday? Lounge about and allow a bunch of girls to fawn all over you?"

"Are you... jealous?" he asked, a tone of happiness in his voice in spite of himself.

"I'm not JEALOUS Ron, I'm ANGRY. I'm supposed to be your girlfriend, you could at least show a slight bit of respect for that! Are you seriously that daft? Now I see why you didn't want to come to Hogwarts, why go spend all your time with me studying when you can be praised daily as Ron the hero?"

"You're being unreasonable!" he exclaimed, puffing out his chest, his hot headedness suddenly rising up, his face turning red to match his hair. "Just because you have to act so humble all the time doesn't mean that I don't deserve a nice word here and there! I was just telling them stories!"

"It's wrong Ron!" she shouted, tears suddenly jumping from her eyes. "Those aren't just stories, those are our lives! You don't just share what we've been through, all that we've suffered... to some group of silly girls!"

She turned quickly, refusing to let him see her tears, and ran off before he could say anything else.

She pulled her hood up once more, this time to hide her tears as she ran off towards the Shrieking Shack, not sure where else to find a moment of solitude. _How can he be such a prat?_she thought to herself as she angrily walked through the leaves and into the woods. She had always known that Ron wasn't the most perceptive individual in the world, but she had hoped that he had grown up somehow.

She found a boulder and in a patch of sunlight and sat on it, pulling her hood back and letting the warm sun soak into her chestnut hair. She wiped the tears from her face with a jerky motion of frustration. It had been hard not to love with Ron. It had always been him and her, loyally following Harry together, sharing their concern for him in quiet whispers at night. At first she had found him insufferable and often rude. But quickly she realized that Ron had always been overlooked, always standing in the shadow of another. And in truth, he was a kind hearted boy who was brave and had a knack for making her laugh.

Despite all of this, she still wondered if it was right. She had dreamed of a future they might have together, but would always be like this? Would he always be saying the wrong thing, would they always be fighting?

As she pondered this she heard footsteps crunching through the leaves and looked up to see Harry approaching. She admittedly did not want to see him at this time, she needed to be alone with her thoughts.

"Did you come out here to escape the crowds too?" he asked, a slight smile on his face. But the smile suddenly faded as he drew closer. "Have you been crying?"

"Oh... well yes" she confessed, her shoulders slightly slouching.

He sat next to her on the large rock, dangling his feet over the edge and tilting his head back into the sunlight. "Why, might I ask?"

"It's silly... not even really worth getting into."

"Ron?" he asked, and she felt a jolt of surprise. She often forgot how well Harry knew her. As if he could read her mind.

"Yes... I told you, silly."

"He can be such an arse" Harry growled in a tone more angry than she expected. He often took Ron's side it seemed. "I'll go have a talk with him."

"Really Harry, you don't have to do that" she said, grabbing his wrist as he stood. "It's nothing so terrible him and I can't sort it through."

"Well, I believe you. But I'm still going to talk with him. It's about time I'd say, that we have a conversation."

She could tell by the resolve in his eyes that he was not going to back down and so she let him go, allowing her to return to the sanctuary of her thoughts.

Harry walked quickly to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, managing to avoid any annoying fans asking for an autograph or a photo. He had come to visit Ron a couple times now, usually short visits that yielded little conversation. However, he knew how to enter through the back door and it was in the inventory room that he found Ron sitting, glumly counting extendable ears.

Ron looked up when he heard someone enter, excited that it might be Hermione, but when he saw it was just Harry he returned to his monotonous task. "Let me guess, Hermione sent you to talk some sense into her thickheaded prat of a boyfriend."

"No, I came of my own accord" Harry responded, his voice sullen as he crossed his arms over his chest. "We need to talk Ron."

Ron looked up now, surprised to hear such sternness in his best friend's voice.

"I understand why you didn't come back to Hogwarts" Harry began, "although, between you and I Ginny and Hermione both could have used you there. Hell, I could have used having my best mate there for the last year. It's been hard for us all being back at that school, but we're getting through it.

But I didn't come here because of that. Like I said, you had your reasons for not coming back, and I respect that you're watching after George, it can't be easy. But just because you're not at Hogwarts, that doesn't mean that you don't still have to act like a boyfriend, a brother or a best friend. Ever since you and Hermione started going together, I hardly ever see you. Since the last battle... it feels like I hardly have anyone, because for the first time I'm the third wheel in what used to be a trio."

Ron tried to protest, but he knew it was true. Even after the battle, he had been too concerned about him family and about being around Hermione... he had barely noticed Harry.

Harry continued. "And as for Ginny...as you know, things didn't exactly work out between us, and if she's half as lonely as I am she could use an occasional owl from her brother, or a lunch in Hogsmeade. And then there's Hermione... well, I don't know what to tell you there. But you need to treat her with all the respect she deserves, because you know she won't waste another tear on you if you keep up whatever it is you've been doing."

Ron was taken aback by Harry's words. Harry often cowered from social situations, and he certainly wasn't fond of giving advice. If anything, when it came to girls, Ron had been the one to offer up his thoughts far more often than Harry. But as he gaped at the raven haired boy, he realized there was a stinging truth to his words. He simply hadn't been a good friend.

Yet, as he realized the truth of this, he felt an old surge of defensiveness rise up in him like a wave. "Well, glad you got that out of your system mate. But listen, I don't really need advice from the likes of you do I? I'm sorry you're jealous that Hermione and I have got each other and you have no one. You botched things up with Ginny, and I can't be to blame for that. One thing is for sure, I am not taking relationship advice from you when you haven't been able to keep a girlfriend long enough for a decent snog."

Ron felt the words came out of his mouth with a hot fury. He wasn't sure why they were all tumbling out so viciously, but there they were, and if Harry felt hurt he didn't show it. His face was impassive, almost frighteningly placid. "I have followed you through hell Harry" Ron concluded. "Don't come in here and act like I haven't been a good friend to you. I'm your only friend."

Harry's green eyes stared long and hard at Ron and then he said, "You'll never change Ron. You're a good person, and a great wizard. But hell, you're too goddamn stubborn." He turned and left, and for the second time that day Ron was left to glumly deal with his own guilt.

" " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " "

When Harry got back to the school he felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. He had fought with Ron many times over the years, but this time it felt almost hopeless. He didn't want to complain to Hermione due the nature of her relationship with Ron. And just as with the letter from Mr. Anonymous, there was not a single person alive he felt comfortable confiding in.

_How can I be one of the most famous wizards to ever live and still have no friends?_he wondered. He knew it wasn't entirely true, he still had Hermione and many people both at Hogwarts and beyond its walls adored him. But he missed that connection he had with his best friend... that connection the three of them had shared in the past. When he truly reflected on the matter, Ron had broken that tie when he left them in the woods, and it had never fully mended.

As Harry entered the calm privacy of his room, and saw a letter sitting there on the bed. Mail typically came to the Great Hall, and so his stomach clenched up slightly at the sight of the mysterious envelop. With a feeling of anxiety he opened the letter and read it.

_Dear Mr. Potter_ it began in the same elegant handwriting as Mr. Anonymous.

_Please forgive the lapse in time between now and my last letter. I assure you, meeting with you remains my top priority. I am currently waiting to see how things fall into place._

_Congratulations on your appointment as head boy. It is an honor, and I'm sure you will do the school of Hogwarts proud. In addition, I'm sure the school anticipates another thrilling year of Quidditch as you return to Gryffindor as seeker. I hope that your year thus far has been not only enjoyable, but also informative, and that you are learning a great deal._

_However, I urge you to begin to look towards the future and consider the wizard you would like to become. I'm sure right now you are confused by my words, but it is my earnest hope that you will meditate on them a bit, until we speak next._

_Until then, best of wishes as always. And remember Mr. Potter... your fate has still yet to be sealed._

Harry puzzled over the letter uncomfortably and then began to pace. Yet again, the tone of the note was decidedly pleasant and supportive, but there were plenty of odd notes included that made him wonder just what this Mr. Anonymous was getting at. _Begin to look towards the future and consider the wizard you would like to become... _Harry puzzled over the words, not sure what the mysterious writer was insinuating. It was certainly time to speak with someone, but who?

He tucked the letter away with the other one, feeling frustrated that the world couldn't just leave him well enough alone. Worse yet, however, he was frustrated that he had nobody to share his frustrations with. He kicked the chest in anger, stubbing his toe, which led him to yelp and hop around on one foot. He decided he needed to go for a fly to clear him mind.

When he arrived a the Quidditch pitch he saw that he was not alone. Someone was circling high above him, and so he kicked up off the ground, rising up to join the lone rider. As he lifted up into the air and came closer to the distant figure, he realized that it was Professor Freeman. The professor was sporting more casual garments than he wore to teach class, looking comfortable and poised in a black t-shirt and jeans. He grinned at Harry, waving easily as the wind cut through his sharply cut black hair.

Harry waved back, soaring closer so they might speak. "Out for a ride professor?" he asked, glad for a casual conversation.

"Yes, I love flying" Freeman admitted. "I actually played a few summers for the US team if you can believe that. It was when I was much younger mind you, and the US has never been as skilled at quidditch as you Europeans are. Seems you've had a a few hundred years on us in terms of training." He laughed and Harry found himself laughing as well.

"What position did you play?" Harry asked.

"Seeker."

"You don't say?" Harry marveled. "Me also."

"Must confess, I already knew that. As I said on the first day of class, you're very famous, even in the United States."

Harry shrugged, not wanting to get into the whole fame thing with his professor. He enjoyed the cool breeze on his face, deciding that coming out had calmed his nerves immeasurably. _I've known loneliness worse than this_ he realized. _Being locked in a cupboard for ten years with the Dursleys was definitely worse than this._

"Would you want to spar a bit?" Freeman asked, breaking Harry from his reverie.

"What?"

"I could grab the snitch and we could battle it out a bit. I mean, I haven't really played in a while but... why the hell not?"

Harry grinned at his professor, surprised and unsure at first if the man was being serious. But sure enough Freeman was dead serious. The older man seemed eager to try and catch the snitch, and so Harry agreed. They released the ball at ground level and each watched as it playfully zipped around their heads before shooting off at an impossible speed, becoming lost somewhere in the arena.

"You ready Potter?" Freeman asked with a challenging but lighthearted tone.

_You bet old man_Harry thought to himself. And without further hesitation the two darted from the ground, heading up high above the stands to look out for the snitch. Without the distraction of the game, it was much easier to calmly inspect his surroundings. He hovered there, looking for glint of the hidden orb.

After a few minutes of looping around the pitch, Harry saw Professor Freeman dive. Harry reacted with cat-like reflexes, swooping down in suit. The two men spiraled downwards at such speed that Harry felt his eyes water and his knuckles turned white as he clenched onto the handle of his Firebolt. He came neck and neck with the professor who had a determined look on his face. And another look... something Harry couldn't put his finger on.

A mere meter from the ground Freeman's face broke into a smile and pulled the broom back upwards, soaring straight up once more. _Wronskei Feint _Harry realized grudgingly. But then... no... it had all been a diversion. The snitch had been right behind Harry's head the entire time as they dove, and Freeman knew it! As he had cut back up he grabbed the snitch with a quick agile maneuver, plucking it from just above Harry's head.

Freeman laughed and Harry, who was initially annoyed, joined in as they touched down to the ground. The wings retracted into the small orb, and he tossed it easily to Harry. "That was luck really, I could have shit myself when I saw that the thing was just chilling out behind your back like that."

Harry gave him a small smile, half shocked to hear a professor swear so easily. "Well, that was some good flying professor."

"Thanks Potter, but you definitely had me on the way down. Had the snitch actually been there, you would have had that sucker. But I'm headed back to the Great Hall to get some food, if you'd like to walk with me."

"Sounds good" Harry nodded. As they walked and talked along the Hogwart's grounds, Harry was glad to have someone to talk with.

" " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " "

Hermione had thought long and hard about her argument with Ron, and decided she would forgive him. She realized that she still had trust issues with him, but that was a hurdle she would need to cross with time. For now, she felt lonely and missed him. And the letter of apology he sent followed by a box of chocolate followed by a bouquet of flowers had somewhat lightened her mood. It had been nearly a week since their fight, and she decided he had suffered enough so she sent him an owl inviting him to come up sneak up to Hogwarts and meet her on rounds to go for a walk and talk.

Having sent the owl flying off towards Hogsmeade she felt a bit lighter, and she headed to the Great Hall for dinner. When she got there, she sat next to Harry, who was reading a letter when she arrived.

"Who wrote you?" she asked, helping herself to a full goblet of pumpkin juice.

"Nobody" he said dully, shoving the letter in his pocket.

She eyed him with suspicion. It wasn't like him to be so secretive, and years of experience had taught her when he was up to something. Still, it was clear from his sullen look that he did not want to discuss it, and so she knew she needed to find a better time to press the situation.

"Ron is coming to visit tonight" she said in nearly a whisper. He wasn't supposed to be coming onto the grounds since he wasn't a student, and he certainly wasn't supposed to be visiting while she was on rounds.

Harry said nothing to this, simply pushing the food on his plate around, which made her feel increasingly concerned. "What's wrong?" she asked him in an exasperated tone.

"Nothing" he lied again, pushing his plate away.

"What did you and Ron talk about last week?"

"Guy stuff" he blandly supplied. "Listen... Ron and I... well, it's complicated."

"Well, un-complicate it for me" she snapped.

Harry looked up at her suddenly, his green eyes flashing in annoyance, but then his look softened. He didn't want to be angry with her for no reason, and he also didn't want to damage what she felt for Ron just because he wasn't speaking to the red head at present. "We got in a bit of an argument, nothing that won't sort out eventually when we cool off."

"Oh" she said softly. "I hope it wasn't my fault."

"How could it be your fault?" he exclaimed, sounding almost angry by the fact that she would say such a thing. "It's between us, nothing you need to worry about. And-" Whatever he was about to say was cut off suddenly as a hand clamped down on his shoulder, diverting his attention. He looked up to see Professor Freeman standing there, a look of excitement glinting in her grey eyes.

"Hey Potter, I need to show you something after dinner. Meet me in my office." He reached over onto the table, grabbed a piece of bread and then walked over to speak briefly with Professor Flitwick.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked. Harry simply shrugged, rising slowly from the table. She watched as Freeman talked easily with the charms professor, laughing at something. The man was considered by many of the females at Hogwarts to be quite attractive, and he reminded her more than just a little of Harry. But there was something about him...

"Do you trust him?" she asked Harry, catching him by surprise as he went to leave the table.

"It's just nice to have someone to talk to" he responded. There was something in his tone that sounded like sadness, but she didn't have time to sort it out as he quickly left the hall.

Harry was feeling irritable over the subject of Ron, and he was glad for the distraction provided by his professor. In truth, he had no idea what Freeman wanted, and he felt his natural curiosity prickle as he headed for the professor's office.

Just before Hermione had arrived at dinner, he had received another letter from Mr. Anonymous. Yet again, no name was associated, but this one had a small amount of information directing him along with it's typical strange pleasantries. _Have you ever heard the name of Anna Alvarez? A charming woman, in many ways than one- I'm sure her acquaintance would please you greatly._

Harry had long learned not to run head first into clues and hints from an unknown sender. Still, the mention of some sort of name gave him hope that he might eventually sort out the mystery of Mr. Anonymous. _Just what I need _he thought to himself, _another bloody mystery to be solved._

He arrived at Professor Freedman's office just as the black haired man arrived at the door himself. "Impeccable timing Harry" Freeman greeted, unlocking the door with a swish of his wand. "Do come in."

It was the same office where Harry had once sat with Snape, the same office he had dealt with insufferable Lockhart and where Umbridge had punished him in a bloody and excruciating manner. He couldn't help but look around a moment, allowing the memories to wash over him. Professor Freeman seemed to understand this, and sat quietly waiting.

"You wanted to show me something Professor?"

"Ah yes, please, take a seat. I feel I may be a bit out of place with what I'm about to ask." The professor looked suddenly uncomfortable to Harry's suprise. He realized how poised and confident Freeman typically was by contrast. "You see, I was talking to the portrait of the famed Dumbledore. I had requested the privilege as part of being hired, and head mistress McGonagall had granted it to me. I had a specific question I wanted to ask, and I felt that what remined of Albus Dumbledore through his painting might be able to answer the question to me."

He paused a moment, and Harry sat still, interested in where the conversation was headed. "Just before I accepted the position of as professor for defense against dark arts, I had been on a mission for the Invisible Force. As I have mentioned, the nature of my previous employer was quite secretive, and I'm afraid I must keep it that way. I'm sure you'll understand however... we all have our secrets no?"

Harry couldn't have agreed more.

"Well, in that final mission I encountered a peculiar sort of magic. A small mirror that when looked into, allows a brief glimpse of what you heart most desires. And I researched this extensively and found a larger version of this mirror exists... the Mirror of Erised. I was naturally very interested, the Mirror of Erised is far more powerful than this trinket I found, and I had to ask Dumbledore's portrait if he had ever heard of it, if it still existed. You see, I believe magic like that, old and amazing as it is, ought to be preserved."

Harry nodded his agreement.

"Dumbledore's painting informed me that you had seen the mirror in the school on two occasions. He said little more than that, and I was wondering if there were any details you could fill me in on."

Harry would have been suspicious of such an inquiry, but Freeman's eyes danced with a sort of youthful amusement that did not suggest malice, but simply interest in the subject. Since the mirror was destroyed for all Harry knew, he did not see the harm in a simple response. "I saw the mirror on two occasion my first year here. Unfortunately, wherever it has gone since I could not say. I would guess that Dumbledore saw to it's safety after the debacle with the Sorcerer's Stone, but I couldn't really say. It was a brilliant piece of magic, I will always remember, but it could also be trap... Dumbledore once told me; 'Men have wasted away before it, not knowing if what they have seen is real, or even possible.'"

Freeman smiled. "His painting said a very similar thing, if not word for word. An echo of the former genius that was the famed Albus Dumbledore. Only that I could have met him in life. Well, thank-you for your help Harry, and as I said, I had something to show you... You can take a look at the mirror I found if you'd like. As I said, it's not nearly as powerful, but still..."

"Yes, I'd like to look please" Harry said eagerly. He wondered if he might glimpse his parents again as he had in his first year.

Freeman withdrew the mirror from his desk and handed it to Harry. It was a somewhat ornate hand-held looking glass, the sort a wealthy girl might have kept many years ago. It was decorated with ornate veins that molded into the silver metal and twisted down the handle. Harry carefully took the item from his professor and held it up, gazing at what was at first his own reflection. He felt uncomfortable for a moment, thinking it wasn't working, or perhaps Freeman was having a laugh at him.

And then it flashed.

It was only a glimpse as the professor had said, barely long enough to register in his mind, but he suddenly saw his heart's desire, and it was no longer Lilly and James Potter. It was Hermione Granger. Harry frowned, not liking this conclusion even though he had known it to be true for some time. He quickly handed the mirror back to Professor Freeman.

"You look less than pleased about the outcome" Freeman noted with a faint tone of teasing.

"I saw you giving me less homework from now on" Harry retorted, pulling a grin despite the aching pang that the mirror had brought to his heart.

Freeman could clearly tell that Harry was joking, but seem unfazed, as though he was fully aware that Harry would not be sharing his heart's desire with some teacher he hardly knew. "Well, one can always hope Potter" Freeman jested in return. "What do you say to a drink of firewhiskey?"

Harry was somewhat surprised by the offer, but then, based on Freeman's care-free nature it wasn't terribly shocking. At first Harry thought to resist, remembering what happened to Ron after accepting a drink from Slughorn. But then the thought of Ron made Harry want to the drink anyways.

Freeman poured two glasses half full and then raised his, toasting, "To friends lost, and friends yet to be found." Harry found this an easy toast to cheers to. Freeman switched the quidditch match on the radio, and they both listened in easy silence as they drank. And Harry was thankful for the company once more.

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Shortly before midnight, Hermione found Ron at the outskirts of the castle. He looked nervous to finally see her after their feud, and so as he approached he kissed her, quick and with surprising force. She could feel his lips on hers, sense the way he gripped her upper arms in the embrace, but she realized that was all she felt.

_Maybe kisses aren't meant to be that dizzying, wobbly knees sensation that books make them out to be_she thought to herself after the embrace parted. He grinned at her in the darkness, his red hair falling partly over his eye in a messy, almost child-like manner.

He grabbed her hand as he had many times before, and she found comfort with her hand in his, but it wasn't romantic somehow. She didn't want to admit that to herself though. _Maybe when the one who loves you touches you, you don't swoon the way they do in movies._

She nearly managed to convince herself of this as they crept along the walls of the great castle, the turrets and towers spiraling into the night sky high above their heads. Still, despite all her attempts to be logical, there was one nagging thought that kept pulling her back from the verge of comfortable. _When I feel Harry near me, it's almost painful how right it feels. When he touches me my bones nearly ache with longing. When I hear his breathing, my world feels at peace._

Hermione Granger hated feeling like she might have made the wrong decision.


	6. Chapter 6: The Damned

It was nearing Christmas time, which Hermione found only amplified her feelings of missing her parents. This would be her second Christmas without them, but this one would not offer the distractions of a life or death mission. Instead she tried to bury her head in finals, her duties as head girl, and occasionally she found time to catch up with Ginny and visit Ron.

Ron had been relentless in his efforts to invite her to Christmas at the Burrow, but she knew the sight of a family celebrating together would only make her feel even more desperate to see her own parents. There was also the fact that Ron had been making less than subtle efforts to try and bring their relationship to the next level of intimacy.

She could not blame him for his advances; they were after all, in their seventh year, and she was his girlfriend. And of course she wanted to experience sexual love, she may have been a stereotypical "good girl" but she wasn't a nun. Still, something about it kept feeling wrong. _It's just the timing_ she kept repeating to herself. _When the time is right, I will know._

Ron had been quite patient about the matter, and she did enjoy spending time with him, whether it be laughing over chocolate frogs or walking about in the snow at Hogwarts grounds, hand in hand. Still, the concept of being in the Burrow just near his bedroom made her feel a bit nervous.

Then there was the issue of Harry, who Ron had still yet to apologize to. She had managed to get the general idea of their argument, and she was surprised it had held out as long as it had. It didn't seem to be the worst argument they had ever had, but Ron's stubborn streak kept him from apologizing, and Harry seemed to have become introverted in an alarming way. She felt like she saw less and less of him as he was always busy with classes, quidditch or rounding up a few Gryffindor boys to go listen to weekly quidditch matches on Professor Freeman's radio.

Hermione was glad that Harry had found a male role model in Professor Freeman who, from all accounts, seemed to have a reputation for bravery, strength and intelligence. Harry had lost every man who had ever come into his life as a father figure, and while he was too old for that now, having someone he trusted and admired was important to him. She understood that, but there was still something about the grey eyed, black haired professor that sat oddly with her.

Harry had also come to spending much time at the library which surprised her. She had once seen him talking in hurried whispers with Madam Pince, but when she asked him what it had been about he told her it was just a bit of homework. She could tell he was lying, but she wasn't sure what to make of it all.

Harry, for his part, had been trying to avoid Hermione. When he did see her, it still remained the highlight of his day, but he didn't want to admit that to himself. He also didn't want to admit that he kept rejecting the advances of perfectly attractive, interesting girls because of his hold ups over her. He was certain that Sirius would have wacked him upside the head for being such a fool, but his Godfather was dead and the closest male friend he had now was Professor Freeman, who fortunately never attempted to breech such private topics.

Harry wasn't sure what he wanted to do for Christmas. He supposed he would visit Godric's Hollow to leave flowers at his parents' grave. And then after that depressing trip... dinner? That was about the extent of his plans, but he was glad to hear that Hermione would be around. He decided he needed to get her an extra special gift given that she would be missing her parents and that the year before he had subjected her to a particularly bleak holiday season.

The weekend before the students packed up to head home for the Christmas season, Harry headed into Hogsmeade to find a gift, this time being more careful about hiding his identity to avoid mobs of fans and nosey reporters.

Hermione also headed to Hogsmeade that weekend, but with the intention of seeing her boyfriend before he headed to the Burrow to celebrate the holidays with family. Ron had been making quite a bit of money as the head of Hogsmeade's Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, so she hadn't been sure what to get him. In addition, she hardly had any money to her name since she no longer had parents to assist her on the financial end of things. So she had taken to charming what looked like a small toy owl. The owl was about pocket sized, but when prompted could be used to find missing items, flying to the mislaid object and hooting loudly. She was quite proud of her nifty bit of magic work, and knew it would be useful as Ron was constantly losing things, and when he used the "accio" spell, it often resulted in disasters as things were knocked over or ripped apart.

Having neatly wrapped the gift she went to find him at his flat in Hogsmeade. "Merry Christmas Ron" she greeted, glad for the warmth of his fireplace.

"Happy Christmas" he replied, taking her coat and kissing her cold cheek.

He had set out two steaming mugs of cocoa, and she smiled upon seeing them, taking a seat at his the small square table of his modest bachelor's pad. They enjoyed their warm beverages and talked easily about small topics such as the weather. Afterwards they found their way over to the couch where a warm fire crackled.

As they settled into the plush cushions, Ron edging closer to her until his lips were pressing down on hers. She returned the embrace, feeling his tongue glide into her mouth, her lips parting to allow this. He began to kiss her heavily, leaning into her until her back was pressed hard against the arm of the couch. He pushed against her, the weight of his body falling against her until she felt she could hardly breathe. He fumbled to find his way to moving his hand beneath the fabric of her sweater, his hand warm as it glided against her stomach and then his long fingers wrapped against her rib cage, her heart beating nervously beneath.

_This is right, this is good_she told herself as the assault of his kissing pressed against her lips. She felt his fingers slide their way under her bra, gently grazing her breast, and she stiffened in spite of herself, not sure why or how it had happened.

He suddenly retracted his hand, and the weight of his body against hers was removed, his wet kissing and forceful tongue lifted away as she gasped for the air she realized she was being deprived of.

"This isn't right is it?" he said, his voice heavy and remorseful as he turned his head away, staring into the fire before them.

"What do you mean?" she asked, feeling horrified that she had insulted him somehow.

"You know what I mean Hermione. I love you, I have for years now... and I always thought, that, well, we'd marry one day" he admitted, suddenly blushing furiously. "I wanted to be that guy who was perfect for you, who you would admire as a wonderful husband, hell, maybe even a father to our children one day. I know we're young, and I probably sound like a bloody fool but... I'm just not that guy for you."

She gaped at him, unprepared for this comment. "Ron, you can be... I mean you are..."

"No, please listen" he said, turning his brown eyes on her, a note of desperation suddenly in his tone. "I'm not trying to feel sorry for myself. I wanted to believe we could be together, I really hoped that when you got here we'd kiss and I'd be reassured, but I just know more clearly than ever.

I know we will both find that special sort of love one day but... hell we're too different! Half the time we fight, we're both stubborn, I want one thing, you want another, I have this stupid pride, you have this bossy attitude... and we might just make each other miserable! I can never be that patient, doting husband you deserve."

She thought maybe there was truth in his words, but she was so shocked that there was a ringing in her ears and she could hardly think straight. It was as if the image of the future she had invented to herself to get through the burdens of war had just been shattered, and she felt stupid for not seeing it coming. Tears stung at her eyes sharply, and she ran for her coat, not listening as he desperately urged her not to leave. She ran from Hogsmeade, not slowing until she was nearly at the door of Hogwarts. She controlled her tears until her made it to her bedroom, and there she promptly locked the door and let herself cry, throwing the carefully wrapped gift she hadn't given him to the floor.

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It took Harry nearly the entire day to track down a gift that he felt was ultimately suitable. It was late evening when he got back to Hogwarts, and decided to go to the library once more. He had been trying to find information on Anna Alvarez, but without Hermione's clever assistance it had been a difficult task. He had done very little research without her in the past, and he realized he barely grasped any concept of how the library was organized. He had asked Madam Pince for assistance at one point, but she hadn't been able to find any authors by that name, and had referred him to a reference of wizard and witch biographies which came in a series of massive, heavy books that he had been slowly wading through with no success.

He had been considering asking Professor Freeman if the name held any significance to him, but then decided he did not want to drag the professor into his personal affairs. He considered him to be a friend, but he had also been burned enough times to know that being trusting wasn't always the best quality. So he decided to keep up the search on his own for a bit more before he looked for help.

He sat by the candlelight, searching through the books, name after name of wizards and witches dating back to thousands of years ago. He often found himself distracted by a funny name of bizarre tale, until he finally decided it was time to give up on the search and retire to his room for some sleep. He walked the dark hallways of the school, his mind drowsy with various thoughts, allowing each to rise up and then pass through his mind. While the issue of Mr. Anonymous was strange and had the potential of being dangerous, Harry could hardly feel too concerned when just a year before he had been quite certain he was destined to die any day.

"Greedy Goblins" he said to the Fat Lady, who was grumpy at having been woken. She swung open and Harry felt the warmth of the common room welcome him. Many students were still awake studying, and those who had already finished mid-year tests were enjoying avid conversations or games of chess. The sight suddenly and painfully made him miss Ron.

Just as he was thinking about the tall red head, the boy's sister came walking down the stairs from the girl's dormitories, her posture tense. Her eyes were fixed directly on Harry, which made him feel uncomfortable. He had gotten used to being around Ginny as she was in some of his classes and on the quidditch team as well. But they had still managed to cautiously avoid each other, keeping conversations to pleasantries and small topics. Thus, being caught in the direct stare of her light brown eyes made him feel a bit flustered.

"Harry, we need to talk" she said, her voice reflecting a demanding tone that reminded him of how fiery her spirit could be.

"Um... sure" he said, following her back out the porthole and into the hallway, once more upsetting the disgruntled Fat Lady. Once in the corridor he felt a surge of discomfort, unsure about what Ginny had to say to him and half feeling that she was about to yell at him. But when he looked into her eyes, he saw deep concern.

"I don't know what's going on Harry" she sighed. "Nothing is as it should be... you and Ron not speaking, this awkwardness between me and you, and now Ron and Hermione breaking up. After all each of us has gone through, the bonds of experience should be far stronger than any of this!"

"Wh-what?" Harry stammered. "Ron and Hermione?"

"You hadn't heard?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "I was sure you would have been the first she ran to! Ron just told me, he wanted to speak urgently through the Floo Network, he's quite upset."

"She broke it off with him?" Harry asked, feeling somewhat hopeful in spite of himself.

"No, he broke up with her. He told me that his feelings towards her had always been confused, he was always caught between fighting with her and wanting to kiss her, and it was no way for a relationship to go on."

Harry felt a pang of concern for Hermione. Ron had dumped her, just before another lonely Christmas, and he immediately knew she would not be feeling well about it. "Have you seen her?" Harry questioned the youngest Weasley.

"No, I assumed she had gone off to find you. When I saw you enter the common room, I was so upset by seeing Ron all glum that I felt like I needed to say something. And now I have... listen Harry, I know my brother can be a git, but such great friendship can't fall apart like this. He does feel awful for what he said to you, and he knows you were right. He told me what you said about being a better brother, and he has been, and I appreciate that. I just hope... things will be okay again one day between you and him, and you and I as well. That's all."

Harry nodded, seeing the wisdom of her words. There was nobody to blame directly for all the hurt feelings that seemed to be circulating, but it needed to be forgiven. She was right; it was no way to end a great friendship. But right now he needed to find Hermione and then he knew he would require a fair amount of cooling off before he could resist the urge to hex Ron for hurting her.

"It was a good talk Gin. I need to find Hermione." He turned quickly, about to run off through the school, but Ginny stopped him.

"Harry, try her bedroom first."

"Of course" he nearly laughed, feeling like a dope. He went back to Gryffindor Tower when he realized that he would have difficulty getting up the stairs to the girls dormitory given that they were cursed to prevent boys from going up to the girls' rooms. "Ah, shit" he swore. He thought to ask Ginny to check, but realized there was something awkward about having the sister of the boy who had just broken her heart knocking on the door. "Well, here we go."

He got a running start and as soon as his feet hit the stairs they turned into a long slide as they had fifth year when Ron tried to climb up. However, his momentum was great and his balance quite enhanced from years of quidditch. A loud bell clanged, alerting the students in the common room to what was happening, and there was a sound of hoots and laughter as they saw Harry recovering his footing and racing up the slippery chute. A few boys whistled and cheered him on as he disappeared around the corner, having successfully made his way into the dormitory.

Slightly winded he straightened himself out and knocked on the door that read "Hermione Granger, Head Girl". "Come in" greeted her familiar voice.

He slowly opened the door to find her lying on her bed, surrounded by books studying for her last exam. "Er- hello" he said awkwardly, standing in the door frame still.

"Harry?" she exclaimed, nearly falling off her bed in surprise. "How in Merlin's name did you get up here?"

"I just ran... fast" he explained lamely.

"Oh" she responded, blinking hard.

He studied her for a moment, thinking at first that she looked quite all right. She seemed to be buried in work, and her voice sounded fairly normal. But as her brown eyes caught his he saw the faint but tell-tale red lines of bloodshot from crying. "I heard what happened" he told her, his shoulders slumping slightly as he still stood leaning against the door frame.

She looked away, returning her face to her books, quickly scribbling something down with her quill. He took the absence of her gaze as a chance to survey her bedroom. He had never seen her room before, and unsurprisingly it was very neat. She had a large bookshelf stuffed full, a carefully arranged desk and beside her bed a framed picture of her parents. The only poster on her wall was of Beatles Abbey Road, which surprised him. He hadn't known she was a Beatles fan. He wondered what else he didn't know about her.

There was what felt like an eternity of awkward silence, and he felt he ought to turn around and leave when she finally spoke. "You can come in Harry, close the door."

He followed her commands and she slowly closed the cover to her book, magically sending them all from her bed and into a neat stack on her desk. For a moment she stared at the wall as if contemplating something and then he realized she was trying not to cry. He remembered the promise he had made to her as she had slept that night at the Burrow- that he would watch out for her. But there was nothing he could do to fix this. He wanted to run to her side... truth be told he had a growing need to kiss her, but this was not the time or place and he knew that very well.

"Ron said that he had always imagined us getting married one day" she said with a short laugh. "Funny thing is, I always thought much the same. I don't know why, it was just this dream I started having ever since the war ended. But nothing has been like I expected. My parents don't remember me, half the time I don't even know what I'm doing with my life, I hardly ever see you anymore, and Ron isn't in love with me..."

She broke off, keeping the tears brimming in her eyes from spilling over. "The thing is, he's completely right! I shouldn't want a boyfriend who never knows the right thing to say and who has an overabundance of pride. But after the war, I just wanted to be in love and have someone be in love with me. I thought if I could make that happen, the pain of what was lost wouldn't be so great. So I forgave him for leaving us during the horocrux hunt, and I forgave him when he was flirting with the stupid girls, but he was more honest than I could be in the end. That sort of romantic love... it was just never really there."

"You will find it Hermione, eventually" he said softly, now walking closer until he was sitting beside her on the bed. She suddenly rested her head on his shoulder, and he could smell her hair, a sweet scent that he could not quite place but made him feel calm and pleasant.

"I know" she sighed, feeling a lot lighter in his presence, as she always did. "At least we have each other right? It can't be an entirely terrible Christmas if we have each other."

"It will be a great Christmas" he resolved, kissing the top of her head as she sat up. "I promise."

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At first, the break up with Ron had felt like swallowing a heavy rock. For several days she couldn't seem to escape the feeling of dread that she had lost something important, that she had somehow failed. She blamed herself for not going to the Burrow like he'd asked, she blamed herself for not taking the next step with him like he'd wanted. But eventually, the hurt feelings and upset left her as more and more she thought about their final kiss, and how it had been nothing like she had always wanted. After a few days, she began to see that it had never been right, and she came to accept that.

What also helped was seeing Harry more frequently. He would walk with her to the Great Hall for each meal, and on the night when everyone went home he presented a large box of Butterbeer which they drank together by the fire in the Gryffindor common room, staying up late and playing wizarding games and chatting about fond memories.

When she woke up Christmas morning it was with a feeling of remorse. She looked at the picture of her parents at her bed side, and whispered "Happy Christmas" knowing that they would probably be celebrating in their new home in Australia, happy in each others' company, not even knowing they had an eighteen year old daughter waking up to cold stone floors in a magical castle somewhere in England.

She decided to go down to the common room and see if Harry was there so she could give him his gift. When she got downstairs, there was no sign of Harry, and he wasn't in his room either. She felt frustrated that he had gone, but also somewhat nervous as it wasn't like him to just leave her alone. She grabbed a heavy blanket from her room and wrapped it around her before the fire, anxiously hoping he would return from wherever he had gone.

The portrait door popped open and Harry entered, his black hair dusted with still melting snow. "It's snowing" he grinned, shaking his and sending flecks of water everywhere.

"Where did you go?" she demanded.

"To visit my parents" he explained. "I wanted to leave flowers at their grave again, like we did last year. I suppose it's a somber tradition, but I'd like to keep it up."

"Oh Harry!" she exclaimed, feeling terrible for being angry with him. "I would have gone with you!"

"I wanted to let you sleep" he explained. "And I got some breakfast from the kitchens" he held up a woven basket, pulling back a cloth to reveal a delicious array of foods.

He set it down on the table and they dug in as they opened a small stack of gifts that had been awaiting them. They had each received the traditional gifts of a sweater and fudge from Mrs. Weasley, this time with a note reading _I do hope you will both come visit soon. Please forgive my Ron for being a prat, he doesn't mean it and we do so love you both_. Harry snickered at the prat comment and Hermione elbowed him, but not without a bit of laughter of her own.

They had each also received gifts from Ron, with a note of his own apology. Harry was glad to see the red head was finally coming to his senses, and was glad that he had thought to send a gift of his own, despite their recent lack of communication. Hermione had also sent Ron the charmed owl, although it had been last minute due to a battle to make up her mind. Ron had gotten her a set of books; an innocent enough gift, but sweet.

Harry was also surprised to find a gift from Professor Freeman- four tickets to a Puddlemere United game. _Bring along some of your mates- hope this cheers your Christmas up a bit stuck in that drafty, shitty castle. _Harry laughed at the unedited professor's choice of language, and was excited by the proposition of seeing Oliver Wood play soon.

"Well, would you like to see your gift?" he asked Hermione, once they had finished their breakfast.

"Of course!" she exclaimed, feeling full and happy. Harry had been right, it was a much better Christmas than she had expected. He handed her a small package wrapped somewhat sloppily, suggesting he had wrapped it himself. She untied the ribbon and shredded the paper to reveal a little black box, a locket inside of it on a fine silver chain.

"It's not just any locket" he explained, a bit of excitement in his voice. "At first I didn't know what to get you. I thought of all sorts of things, but nothing seemed quite right. I knew there was only one thing you would really want for Christmas... the same thing I want... my parents back.

But of course, I couldn't do that, as you know the memory charm you performed on them is much too strong, I doubt that even with the elder wand it could be reversed. But Professor Freeman had me thinking about mirrors..."

She popped open the locket, and inside there wasn't a picture, just a shiny mirror surface with her own partial reflection peering back at her. "Remember the two way mirror I had a piece of when I saw Aberforth? It's very similar... you can charm it to see anyone you choose. Whenever they are happy or feeling peaceful, it will show them to you. The incantation is simple; you just need something that belonged to your parents when you do it. And then you can watch over them."

Tears of happiness rose up into her eyes as she held the delicate locket in her hands. She couldn't believe that she hadn't thought of something like this, of all the nights she had secretly stayed up looking through old photo albums and crying... and the whole time there had been a simple way to keep her family in her life.

"So... you like it?" he asked, suddenly uneasy by her tears.

In response she threw her arms around his neck, and he could feel her warm, moist tears against his skin. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of hair, which lately had become increasingly familiar to him. Then suddenly, his lips were on his and it was as if a shock ran through his body, and his fingers ached with the sudden desire to pull her into him closer, to deepen the kiss, but in just as quick a flash her touch was gone.

"I'm sorry" she said quickly. "I got carried away, I was just so happy!" She turned quickly with the excuse of getting one of her parents' things from her room to activate the charm.

As he watched her run off he slumped back in the couch dully, staring into the fire as he thought _Of course she didn't mean it... she was just broken up with by Ron, what did you think she was going to rebound into your arms? _Still, he found his way to regaining good spirits by focusing on the fact that she was happy with his gift. He often felt that her losing her parents was entirely his fault, and being able to give her a little bit back made him feel happy.

In her room she quickly slammed the door, slowly sliding down to the floor, her fingers gently pressed against her lips where they had just touched Harry's. _What was I thinking?_ her mind screamed. _He must think I'm such a floozy, kissing him like that just a week after Ron breaks up with me. _And yet it had felt so good, it had felt just like the way they said it ought to in books and in movies. The brief brushing of their lips had set her heart racing, had made her world spin an almost dizzy but wonderful way. Every cliche of love had swelled up in her, and it was so much different than the almost sweetly awkward experience of kissing Ron.

_What does this mean? _she wondered to herself. She had known that she found Harry attractive, and that she loved him deeply for all of his wonderful qualities. There wasn't a person in the world she trusted more than him, felt more safe or comfortable in the presence of. But she had always thought somehow, for some reason, that it was Ron she was meant to be with, that she would fall in love with. Had she fallen in love with Harry without even realizing it?

"Oh my God" she whispered out loud with a note of panic. "I'm in love with my best friend." She began to pace suddenly, wondering how she hadn't noticed it sooner. _It should have been so obvious _she thought, feeling foolish. _Why else would I go racing off into danger with him without a second thought, or feel like the highlight of my day was seeing him, or get upset when other girls paid him too much attention, or cry when he was hurt..._

She could have slapped herself upside the head for being so daft. She stopped pacing and looked at herself in the mirror. _What am I going to do? _she wondered, glaring into her own reflection and wishing suddenly she could speak to her mother and get some womanly advice. She had just spent the past six months dating Harry's best friend, how was she just going to pick up with Harry now? And did he even feel anything for her? If so, he had never shown it.

She felt sick to her stomach and laid down on her bed, feeling dizzy once more, but this time in a bad way. She had thought that Ron breaking up with her was a heart wrenching feeling, but the realization of unrequited love was a million times worse. It felt like she couldn't breathe. _He can never know _she decided after what felt like an eternity. _Things with Ron may never be the same; I can't afford to lose another friendship over a failed attempt at romance._

With this decision in mind, she went about setting up the locket charm. She may not be able to talk to her mother, but at least she could see her for Christmas morning. When she arrived back in the common room it was with the now functioning locket that dangled from her neck. Inside, the mirror now reflected her parents as they happily shared Christmas dinner. It was growing dark in Australia, and they had lit candles as her father served her mother a large slice of ham.

Harry could tell from the content smile on her face that she had the locket working, and she showed him. "I think they would have liked you" she said, as he watched the Grangers toast to one another. "Here" she handed him a neatly wrapped package that appeared to be a soft covered book. "It's really nothing special, nothing like what you got me. But I hope it helps..."

He carefully tore off the paper and his heart nearly stopped. "Les Maudites: An Ancient Mystery Exposed". But it wasn't the topic that stunned him as much as the author. The fifty page report had been written by none other than Anna Alvarez.

"I've been looking like crazy to find out who Anna Alvarez is!" he exclaimed.

"Why?" Hermione exclaimed. "I only found the report because you had mentioned Les Maudites to me that night. I thought it might hold some special interest to you, and since I don't have much money to buy you a gift with, I thought I'd put my library skills to some good."

"This was in the library the whole time?" Harry asked.

"No" she frowned. "You were right; there was nothing in the library about Les Maudites. I had to specially request this from a library in Spain. It took a bit of cross referencing and tracking down, but there you have it."

"I couldn't find anything about a writer named Anna Alvarez" Harry admitted.

"That's probably because it's a pen name. It says so inside. I didn't read the whole thing though, I didn't want to snoop. It's clear you've been spending a lot of time at the library, and I had a hunch this had something to do with it. But it's also clear that you don't want to tell me what." She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.

"It's probably nothing" Harry began. "I didn't want to tell you because I know how you worry."

"Well now I AM worried."

"Over the summer I received an owl at Grimmauld Place from a man I've been calling Mr. Anonymous. I don't know how he found me there, or who he is. But I've received several owls since. He seems to know a lot about me, and I can't trace the sender no matter what I try. They're not really threatening, but they're certainly mysterious."

"I want to see them" she demanded, and he acquiesced by running up to his room and bringing them for him to read. She tried the same spells he had to reveal the sender, but with equal results. She read over them carefully. "They really are strange Harry. It seems like someone is stalking you, but that's not what is so strange, I'm sure you have dozens of stalkers."

"Dozens?" he yelped.

She ignored this, looking up at him with a light of concern in her eyes. "What concerns me is that is seems as if this Mr. Anonymous expects something of you. And why does he want you to know about Anna Alvarez and Les Maudites?"

"I dunno" Harry shrugged. "Looks like another fucking mystery for Harry Potter, wonder child."

She eyed him sadly, and could see how glum the whole thing was making him. _He just wants a normal life_. _Doesn't he deserve that?_

"Just be careful Harry" she warned.

"I always am right?" he grinned suddenly, knowing full well that he was anything but a cautious person. He placed the report to the side now and stood, stretching. "Thank you for this, I have a feeling it's important but I'll read it later. For now, I want to celebrate Christmas and I have just the right way to get into the spirit."

"How's that?

"Let's get drunk and play in the snow."


	7. Chapter 7: Transparent Truths

After the best Christmas Harry had experienced in a while, he had fallen asleep heavily with a full stomach of delicious Hogwarts dinner and a mixture of Firewhiskey and Butterbeer. The next day he allowed himself to sleep in late and when he woke up the first thing his eyes laid upon was "Les Maudites: An Ancient Mystery Exposed". He decided it was as a good a start as any, and so in the comfort of his bed he proceeded to trudge his way through all fifty pages.

It was early afternoon when Hermione decided she ought to get Harry out of bed already. She climbed up to the boys dormitory easily (apparently girls are far more trustworthy) and entered his room, this time knocking to avoid any half clothed encounters from re occurring. When she opened the door he was sitting upright, shirtless, his face buried in his hands.

"My God Harry is something wrong?"

"I don't know" he confessed in a weak tone, looking pale.

Her heart sunk at seeing him look so shaky, and despite her promise to herself to hide her feelings for him, she quickly ran to him, sinking to her knees before him, and grabbing his hands which felt cold and almost lifeless.

He looked down at her, and could see the panic in her eyes. He felt a twinge of guilt for causing her such distress. It seemed almost ironic that since he was eleven he had been trying to protect those he loved, and instead he had only caused them pain, loss and terror.

"I read the article about Les Maudites" he began, trying to pull his strength together. He helped her to her feet, moving so she could sit next to him on the bed. Her proximity made him feel a bit calmer. "Anna Alvarez is apparently the only one still who has knowledge of the topic, and she wrote the article after deciphering ancient hieroglyphics found in the excavation of a wizarding colony that existed in Greece thousands of years ago."

He paused for a moment trying to decide where to start. "Les Maudites was a term coined by a French scholar in the 1600s. He claimed to have known a Damned One, but the scholar was killed shortly after and his publishings destroyed. That is why Anna Alvarez used a pen name."

"Why would anyone kill him?" Hermione asked, feeling tense.

"Because they were afraid of the information falling into the wrong hands. Les Maudites are incredibly powerful, they make regular magic look fairly weak. Had someone like Voldemort figured out a way to become one, he would have been unstoppable. Fortunately, I don't think he would have the ability to do so."

"Why not?" she asked, feeling increasingly anxious by the tone of his voice as he suddenly sprung up, shoving his hands into his jean pockets and breathing quickly as he paced back and forth.

"To become a Damned One you must be marked by death in three ways. First, someone who loves you in a deep and pure sense must give their life for you. Next, you must yourself die selfishly. And finally, you must kill someone who shares a part of you."

He paused, allowing a moment of silence for emphasis. She mulled over his words, and then her eyes opened in shock. "Oh my God Harry" she gasped. "That could be you."

"I know" he said, a look of despair in his eyes. She suddenly jumped up and flung her arms around him.

"Voldemort would never have someone to die for him out of pure love, and he would never give his own life selfishly. But my mother died for me, and then I took the Avadad Kedava curse and died to break the horocrux that was within me. And then... I killed Voldemort who shared some of my blood."

As he spoke she could feel the deep rumbling of his chest, and she felt dizzy, not knowing what any of this really meant.

"That must be why Mr. Anonymous wanted me to look for Anna Alvarez, he must have known. But I don't know how, I never told anyone besides you and Ron of how I died for that brief moment, and few people know that Voldemort had my blood in his veins!" He felt sick suddenly, his head spinning with the possibilities.

"But what does it all mean Harry?" she asked, wishing now that she had read the article before she gave it to him.

"They call them The Damned for a reason" he said bitterly as she slid from his arms. "You give up what she refers to as 'your right to die'. You become immortal, watching everyone you love die until you forget what it is to love. You lose your humanity."

"But your obviously not one of them!" she exclaimed. "You haven't manifested any special powers since Voldemort's death."

"You're right" he said slowly, as though something was dawning on him. "Because... well, because you have to choose it!" His eyes lit up with relief as he quickly ran to grab the report, eagerly flipping through the pages. "How stupid I can be, getting us all worked up for nothing. See, it says it here!"

Hermione read aloud the section he was pointing to. "According to the hieroglyphics, after having been marked by death in three ways, the wizard or witch must travel to the underworld and allow himself or herself to receive the final mark of death, which is described as a painful process in which the wizard or witch sacrifices his or her right to die in return for vast powers."

"The final mark of death" Harry repeated, feeling his heart slow and relax. "I would have to go out of my way to become a Damned One, and I definitely don't plan on doing that."

Hermione leafed through the report, a look of confusion across her features. "It's awfully vague. She doesn't describe much about the underworld, and she never seems to get to what 'right to die' means."

Harry shrugged. "She admits that a lot of it is confusing since the hieroglyphic records aren't very clear. They chronicle the rise of an ancient and powerful wizard named Agapios, a wizard who rained terror over many magical worlds for hundreds of years. According to the record, Agapios was a regular mortal man, who was known for his good nature and kind heart. He had been marked by death in the three ways; first when his wife sacrificed herself to save him from the curse of an evil wizard, next when he tried to exchange his life for hers in an act of necromancy, and finally when he had to kill his own son, who had become corrupted by evil.

The records become unclear on why he chose to become a Damned One, or if he was even the first of his kind, all it says is that 'the Gods spoke to him and promised him great powers if he would travel to the underworld'. And when he came back, he used his powers for good, but slowly he lost sight of what it meant to be human, and it twisted him to the point where he could only find happiness in the suffering of others. He would conjure great plagues just to watch the people die, or cast droughts over lands to witness the starvation of thousands."

"Sounds like a nice guy" Hermione commented.

"Yeah" Harry laughed. "You can see now why I was panicked. I feel like I've caused enough pain and suffering without having to go all inhuman and crazy."

"I don't think you could ever be like that" she assured him, neatly putting the report away in his desk drawer. "Let's try not to think about this right now. What does concern me, is this Mr. Anonymous, and how he knows all this about you."

"Professor Freeman" Harry said suddenly.

"What about him?"

"He mentioned Les Maudites on the first day, why would he do that? Few people know about them, and I've stopped believing in random coincidence."

"Harry, you don't think..."

Harry gulped. He didn't want to think that the fun loving professor could be up to some sort of game, but then, what else was there to think? It wouldn't be the first time a professor attempted to get close to Harry for less than honest reason.

"I need to talk to him. Now." Harry said, his face grim. He strode purposely over to his dresser and grabbed out a shirt, pulling it down over his head as he thought over everything he would say to the professor.

"He's not here Harry, it's Christmas break remember?"

"FUCK!" Harry yelled, making Hermione jump. He suddenly punched the wall, hitting it with such force that blood instantly sprang from his hand. She wanted to help him, but he was growling in such a way that she felt afraid suddenly. The blood spread from his knuckles, dripping down his fingers slowly. He howled again in frustration and hit the wall once more, and she could audibly hear a bone in his hand snap but he didn't seem to notice as he did it again and again until his entire arms was coated in blood, leaving a spattered stain on the stone wall.

Finally having exhausted himself, Harry slumped to the floor, cradling his smashed up hand against his body, the blood quickly seeping into his clean shirt. "I'm sorry Hermione" he apologized, not looking up as he crouched there, his dark hair falling over his eyes, obscuring them from her. "I knew it would never really be over, but I just want to be left alone, I just want to be left alone, I just want to be left alone..." he trailed off repeating himself, and suddenly he fainted from what could only be a combination of blood loss and pain.

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When Harry woke back up the room was dark, and he assumed he was in the hospital wing. But as he looked up at the ceiling he saw that it was not the familiar vaulted ceilings of Madam Pomfrey's ward. Slowly his eyes adjusted until he could vaguely make out the shape of the canopy of his bed. He was in his own room, and as he cautiously moved his arm he realized it was healed. His blood soaked shirt had been removed as well.

As he shifted himself in the bed he bumped into someone. _Hermione_he thought, suddenly becoming aware of her steady breathing in the dark. The same breathing he had fallen asleep to for many months in their tent, hunting horocruxes. His movement had stirred her awake and she dreamily said his name, clearly half asleep.

"I'm sorry" he said again.

"Don't apologize" she whispered, finding his nearly healed hand in the darkness, and lacing her fingers through his. "Everyone has their moments of weakness. And you've never gotten to rest in life. It's unfair... but there's nothing to be done about it I suppose."

He squeezed her hand gently in agreement. "Thank-you for healing me. Those advanced healing lessons seem to have stuck with you quite well."

"Me, forget something I've learned?" she laughed demurely, moving closer to his side until he could feel the gentle inhalation and exhalation of her breaths against his neck. He thought the sensation might drive him mad with longing, and he thought of their kiss Christmas morning. But then he could tell she had drifted back into dreamland and so he settled himself for drawing great comfort in her presence.

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Sleeping in his bed became a habit of Hermione's for the nights leading up to the return of the other students. They didn't discuss it, but every night at some point she would find her way to creeping under the covers and laying beside him. For the first time since the war they both felt the weight of loneliness lift off of them, but their feelings remained carefully hidden.

The day before the students were bound to arrive, Harry received another mysterious letter on his bed. He ripped it open angrily, knowing for certain it was Mr. Anonymous.

_Dear Harry,_

_I sense that you have learned a great deal over your Christmas break about Les Maudites. I'm sure you've determined that this is why I mentioned Anna Alvarez to you. I'm sorry for the games and riddles, but I needed to be entirely sure about many things before I continued this path._

_I'm sure we can both agree it is time for some truth. Yes, you have been marked by death in three ways; a life was given for you out of pure love, you gave your own life selflessly, and you killed one who shared a part of you. What remains, is the fourth mark; you must travel to the underworld and willingly sacrifice your right to die._

_I'm sure you are wondering why you would do this, and I'm sure you have many other questions as well. For these reasons I believe it is finally time for us to truly meet face to face. One month from today, find me in the Dark Forest at midnight. Come alone. Mention this to no one._

Harry gritted his teeth in frustration, nearly tearing the letter up. He had no desire to travel to the underworld and become a damned one? Why would he want to give up his humanity and become a monster like the ancient wizard Agapios? None of it made sense, and there was no way he was going to meet this mysterious pen pal in the middle of a cursed forest just to hear some sappy tales. How stupid did this guy think he was?

Yet still, the intrigue of the mystery kept him from entirely destroying the letter. He placed it with the others, but resolved that he would not walk into a trap. He didn't know what Mr. Anonymous' game was, but he had no reason to ever find out. _Well, that's that _he decided. _And I'm not telling Hermione._

When classes resumed the next day, there was no sign of Professor Freeman. The school was positively abuzz with rumors of what had happened to the handsome professor, but Harry was more suspicious than anything. He knew it had something to do with Les Maudites, but he couldn't be entirely sure of what. If the professor had something to say to Harry on the topic, why not just tell him while he was around all those months? Why just disappear without a word?

"I have no energy for mysteries anymore" he told Hermione as he sat down heavily for lunch in the Great Hall several days later. "I'm quitting them cold turkey."

She eyed him with amusement. "I don't think you get that option. You're Harry Potter."

"I'm changing my name" he argued. "Harry Potter is sort of a boring name anyways. Maybe I'll try something more exotic on for size. Something that isn't associated with mystery solving, near death experiences and most of all, riddles. No more riddles for this guy."

"Well, there may be something to take your mind off the matter" she said slowly. "They have announced a winter ball to take place in a couple weeks."

"Brilliant" he grumbled.

"Oh come on now Harry, it's our last year here. We can at least try to do some normal eighteen year old things."

"Have you seen me dance?" he asked. "It's anything but normal."

She laughed in spite of herself, which made his mood lighten up a bit. "I'll go if you'll be my date" he offered.

She felt a sudden sense of sickness at his words. Of course she would want to be his date, the idea of dancing with, being seen by his side all night... but it would just be as friends and that gave her heart an icy feeling that killed any joy she might have initially had. "I'm sorry Harry, I agreed to go with Chris Jameson, he's a Ravenclaw, he asked me the first day back from Christmas break and..."

She wasn't able to finish her sentence because he suddenly stood up, and without taking a second glance back at her, stormed from the hall. If anyone had noticed they didn't seem to make a fuss, but Hermione simply sat there, mouth gaping wide at his reaction. She had only accepted Chris' invitation because she had assumed Harry would have his pick of any other girl in the castle and she couldn't stand being his fill-in friend. She did find Chris to be handsome and polite, and he was very intelligent and she hoped that maybe her affection for Harry would be less painful if she focused her attention on another.

After several moments of sitting there, she ran up to Gryffindor Tower in search of Harry. She tore into his room, not bothering to knock and he jumped with surprise at her abrupt entrance. "Are you mad at me?" she exclaimed, practically yelling at him.

"No! Well, yes! I mean no!"

"Which is it Harry?" she asked, her brown eyes glaring at him in such a way that made him want to reach for his wand to avoid being hexed.

"I'm upset!" he blurted out, not sure where his mouth was about to take him. "I mean, blimey, you sleep in my bed every single night, and you kissed me on Christmas, and... and well, I'm tired of the games! I need to know how you feel."

"How I feel?" she asked slowly, utterly shocked by what he was saying to her. She had never seen him so flustered and un confident, she felt like she had slipped into an alternative reality. When the confused ringing in her ears subsided she felt indignation well up her stomach. "How I feel? Really? What about you Harry? You're the most difficult person to read, I used to think I could read your mind but..."

"I'm in love with you" he blurted out, his tone strangely angry. "I have been for, I don't even know how long. But I thought you were in love with Ron, and I didn't want to take that from you like I've taken so much else."

She felt like she might fall over, staggering back slightly at his words. "You- you..."

"Stop stuttering" he said, and then before she knew it he had walked across the room and grabbed her firmly by the upper arms and pulled her towards him, kissing her.

It was nothing like the brief kiss they had shared on Christmas morning. It was deep and powerful, making her weak in the knees and she felt like everything around them was melting away. She could feel his chest pressed against hers, his heart racing urgently. She wrapped her arms around his neck to brace herself, gaining the energy to fully push herself into the embrace which had turned nearly frantic and passionate.

When they finally broke apart all he could say was "wow" and she buried her face against his neck, smiling lightly. "I've wondered about doing that for years now" he admitted.

"I'm glad you finally did" she responded, and then slightly stepping back she looked into his eyes. "Because Harry, I am deeply in love with you. And I only realized it recently. I'm such a fool."

"You're hardly a fool" he laughed. "After all, you are the cleverest witch of many billions of decades."

"That's a severe exaggeration Mr. Potter" she laughed, and she urgently kissed him again. If she had ever wondered if kissing her best friend would be awkward she now had her answer. There was nothing awkward about it; it felt perfectly right.

"So you're not going to the ball with that Ravenclaw bloke then?" he asked between kisses.

"I'm sure he'll understand."

"If he doesn't, I'm sure I can take him understand. I am, after all, Harry Potter."

"Don't be cocky" she murmured against his lips and he smiled inwardly at the pun but said nothing.

' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' '' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' '' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' '' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' '

Hermione Granger hadn't been happier in her life, or at least in as long as she could remember. They had decided to keep their new relationship a secret for a little while so they could enjoy it before it became a spectacle for the students and papers alike. And a spectacle it would certainly be when it was heard that THE Harry Potter finally had an official girlfriend, and that the girl was Hermione Granger, whom had been speculated as playing both Harry and Viktor Krum at one point in time (thanks to Rita Skeeter). Based on the amount of hate mail she had received due to that little rumor, she couldn't imagine what was in store this time. She could just see the headlines "Hogwarts Head Girl Hermione Granger Leaves Ron Weasley for Savior of the Wizarding World". She cringed at the thought.

Which brought up another issue. Harry had plans to visit Ron that night (sneaking off the Hogwarts campus naturally), and while he had wanted to tell Ron of his feelings for Hermione, she had advised him against it.

"Ron is a hot head as we both know" she explained. "And despite the fact that he broke up with me he will not like feeling as though the famous Harry Potter ended up with his girl, especially so shortly after we ended things. We can tell him just before the ball; hopefully by then things will be back to normal between you both."

Harry saw the wisdom of her words, but felt uncomfortable keeping such a secret from Ron. Still, he knew that Ron would probably be hurt somehow, and he desperately wanted his friend back in his life. He figured there was no harm as long as they were careful that Ron heard from them and nobody else. If he ended up reading about it in the Daily Prophet there would be no end to that.

As the sun set Harry and Hermione spent some time studying on the couch, and he was finding it difficult not to kiss her or at the very least sit a bit closer. But she seemed quite on task with their work, and so he grudgingly kept his focus. The portrait door popped open and there was a sudden shriek that made them both jump.

Harry was about to grab his wand when he recognized that the sound was one of celebration as Ginny Weasley came tearing into the room followed by several of her closest female friends, all looking quite ecstatic. Ginny was waving a letter over her head.

"Harry!" she yelled joyously running towards him. "I have been invited to try out for the Holyhead Harpies!"

Harry smiled at her, genuinely happy for her excitement, and she suddenly threw herself into his arms. He exchanged the embrace congratulating her, "I'm sure you will do great! That's wonderful news Gin!"

All the while that Ginny had her arms wrapped tightly around his neck Harry could feel Hermione glaring daggers at them both, and thus he was relieved when she released her grip. "You need to help me practice Harry, the tryouts are right at the end of the semester!"

"Sure thing" he agreed, and then Ginny kissed him quickly on the cheek and ran up to the girls' dormitory to celebrate with her friends.

He looked back sheepishly at Hermione who gave him an unpleasant look and then returned to her books. He could hardly say anything to her with so many others in the common room, so he unhappily set back about his work until it grew dark enough for him to slip out and head to Hogsmeade.

He walked across the snowy grounds with his invisibility cloak neatly hiding his departure. The sky was a strange reddish color, looking as if it might snow again. He breathed in the cool air and found himself enjoying his surroundings; the way the wind blew the black branches of the leafless trees, the crunch of the stiff snow under his feet, the crisp cold air in his lungs.

It had been mostly a quiet year at Hogwarts aside from the letters from Mr. Anonymous and the the disappearance of Professor Freeman. Harry was very thankful for that, and thankful that he no longer felt lonely. Every night Hermione still slept in his bed, and while his teenage hormones drove him crazy some nights, he also didn't want to disturb the peaceful arrangement they had. He felt he could behave himself for a bit longer.

Harry met Ron at the Three Broomsticks, and the greeting was awkward at first. "Hiyah Harry" Ron said, holding his hand out for a shake.

Unsure what else to do Harry accepted and they both sat at the bar, at first in a strange silence. "I heard Ginny was asked to try out for the Holyhead Harpies" Harry offered lamely.

"Ah yes!" Ron responded. "She's a brilliant chaser no? Better than any of the rest of Weasleys even."

"Better than Weasley the King?" Harry joked. Ron blushed a bit at the reference but Harry could still tell he was pleased. "How've you been Ron?"

"Good, good" he nodded. "Yah, know it was hard at first breaking up with Hermione. I felt like a lousy git, and then I kept wondering if I'd made a mistake but I think I may finally be past all that. I do miss her though."

"She misses you too" Harry said assuredly. He knew that because Hermione had told him the previous night as they fell asleep together. But he left that out to Ron.

"I wish she had come with you, we could have been the trio again, like old times."

"Maybe next time Ron, she just thinks you both need a little time to let the weirdness fade away."

"She's always right" Ron grinned, ordering two Butterbeers.

"Don't let her hear you say that. She'll be insufferable." They both had a good laugh, and as they fell into their drinks things started to feel normal again, and Harry felt like he couldn't have a care in the world.

How wrong he was.


	8. Chapter 8: I Choose Happiness

Harry awoke suddenly in the night, sitting quickly upright in his bed after a nightmare that was quickly fading from his mind. All he could recall was death and a cold feeling, and then there was the distinct image of the eyes of a very old man watching him, eyes that seemed to pierce into his soul.

He nearly had to catch his breath and wondered if he'd stopped breathing in his sleep. Hermione stirred at his side and he tried to lie back down slowly to avoid fully waking her, but he was unsuccessful. She rolled in closer to him, tucking in against his chest, so close that they were nearly sharing breaths.

"Bad dreams?" she asked, half yawning as felt listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

"Mmm" was all he managed, softly rubbing her back.

"I still have them to some nights; I've stopped taking the dreamless potion months ago. Side effects can be problematic. But mostly they're gone when I'm with you."

"This was a strange one" he noted. "Nothing to do with the war or any of that I don't think. I can't really remember it. I'm sorry I woke you."

"It's fine. Are you going to see Ron today?"

"Yes" he nodded, feeling sleep once more falling over him like a heavy blanket. "I am going to tell him that I am taking you to the ball this weekend, and that we have feelings for each other and etcetera etcetera..." he trailed off lazily.

"Good. And then Ginny will know and she'll stop trying to sink her claws into you."

He frowned in the dark. "I think you're getting a bit ahead of yourself. We're just friends."

"We were just friends too if you remember" she remarked indignantly. But then she laughed in spite of herself. She knew that Ginny was not out to steal back Harry, she just liked to make him uncomfortable on occasion. She found it somewhat adorable.

"You're... not funny" he mumbled as he finally fell back asleep.

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The next day was a Saturday, and Harry was taking the walk back to Hogsmeade to visit his friend Ron. He had been spending a lot more time with Ron lately, and had even told him about the letter from Mr. Anonymous, the disappearance of Professor Freeman and Les Maudites one night while he helped him clean up the joke shop.

Ron had been concerned, but also somewhat relieved that he was no longer in close proximity to the danger of Harry's life. While he loved Harry like a brother, and would gladly die for him, the mental strain of their many years together fighting evil had exhausted him in many ways. Some nights, Ron would find himself awake in his apartment, alone to his thoughts and he would realize it was only a matter of time before he would find himself back to working in the way of life and death. But for now, he was happy for the quiet the joke shop offered.

Since it was a Saturday, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was filled with excitement when Harry arrived. By now some of the excitement at seeing the famous Harry Potter had worn off, but there were still plenty of autograph requests and flirtatious females and all the other trappings of fame. Since Ron was in the middle of a transaction Harry helped himself into the back room where he sat, enjoying the peace. He wasn't sure how Ron was going to react to the news, but because they had become closer again he was hopeful.

After nearly a half an hour Ron came bursting through the door, slamming it solidly behind him. "It's crazy out there! I'm going to need to hire more staff!"

"Have time to take a break and go for a walk?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, sure. What's the point of owning the place if you can't skive off whenever you feel like it?"

The two pulled on their winter jackets and headed out the back door and onto the more secluded trails leading out of Hogsmeade. At first they talked easily about Quidditch and Ron asked how Ginny was improving since last week when the three had practiced together. Harry felt almost light as they laughed over how drunk Ron had gotten the previous weekend, but then he still had the burden of truth hanging over his head.

"Listen Ron, I'm taking Hermione to the winter ball tonight."

"Oh yeah, probably a good idea you go together, those things can be dreadful. Although I really don't understand why you don't just scoop up the nearest adoring female and have some fun, we only live once, and in your case it may not be that long... kidding! Of course."

"Well, I mean... we'd be going as more than friends is the thing. And I wanted you to know first because undoubtedly it will be some stupid sensationalized thing."

Ron stopped walked and gaped at Harry for that felt like an eternity. His mouth hung open so wide Harry had the odd compulsion to scoop up a snowball and log it in, but then Ron finally spoke in a stuttered, broken manner. "You... and... Hermione?"

"I know you both always had a future sort of in mind, I think we all thought she was the girl for you mate, and I really don't want this to be anything bad between us. After you broke up with her... feelings just sort of... came up." Harry felt largely uncomfortable at the tense silence, and while he had carefully planned what he would say it still came out sounding foolish.

"Feelings just came up?" Ron repeated in an odd tone. "Like vomit just comes up? Just unexpected and out of the blue?"

"Well, that analogy is a bit gross... but yes. Well no. I mean, if I'm going to be honest, and I feel I should be, I have had feelings for her for quite some time now... maybe years."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Ron asked his expression unreadable, his tone flat.

"I thought you were happy together. You have both been such good friends to me, I didn't want to destroy any of that happiness you so deserved."

Ron turned away for a moment, tilting his head up to the sky where the grey winter clouds had parted momentarily to allow a long streak of sunlight to filter down to his pale skin. He seemed to be enjoying the faint warmth it offered, and he remained silent to the point that Harry almost found maddening.

"Are you in love with her?" Ron finally asked.

"Yes" Harry responded flatly, still studying his unmoving best friend. Ron was like a brother to him, he had been Harry's first true friend. The tension of the situation made his gut hurt. He suddenly wished they could go back to being eleven, collecting chocolate frog cards on the train.

Finally, Ron opened his eyes and turned back to Harry, fixing his gaze on Harry's face as through searching for something in the raven haired boys features. "It must have been difficult for you, watching us together."

Harry nodded. "There were times when it felt like it might be okay. I felt strongly for your sister, and then I thought maybe the happiness you and Hermione shared might be enough to make me feel content with things. It seemed... greedy to be concerned with being loved when I should feel fortunate for friendship and the fact that we are alive."

Ron snorted and it made Harry jump with surprise, as laughter was not what he expected. A punch he was ready to handle, even a well-aimed jinx and a nasty assault of name calling. But laughter set poor Harry's nerves on edge.

"Harry, you're so humble sometimes it sickens me. You say that you wanted to see me happy? Well, believe it or not, I want to see you happy too bloke. I'm surprised that you're in love with Hermione, I won't lie about that, but I think if there's one thing I learned from the war it's that life is too short to not pursue happiness. I also learned that there are way too many riddles in the wizarding world, but that's a side note."

Harry laughed at this, his heart lifted to hear Ron's words. "You're right Ron. Too many God damned riddles."

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Harry fussed over his dress robes in the mirror of his bedroom. While he would be the first to admit that he was no expert on fashion, he couldn't help but wish there was a bit more variety to the wizard wardrobe. He felt like a big penguin. _Hermione is going to take one look at me and laugh_he thought, glumly playing with his bow tie for a thousandth time.

He rarely thought about his physical appearance, but now he felt a bit uncertain gazing at his own reflection. The last ball Hermione had gone to was with the broad shouldered, well-muscled and internationally famous Viktor Krum. Harry had the fame thing going for him, but Viktor clearly had him on the physical end. Harry wasn't weak, and he had grown to a decent height but he doubted he would be featured in a Wizard of the Month swimsuit calendar anytime soon.

And then there was the issue of his relentlessly messy black hair. He had even gotten it cut professionally for the occasion, but still it looked tousled about like he had just gotten in a wrestling match with a troll. Normally, he would not have cared. But he wanted the occasion to be special for Hermione, and he knew these sorts of events held special meaning to girls. He knew this because Ginny had talked about it relentlessly for the past two weeks as they practiced on the quidditch pitch. She had opted to go stag for the event explaining "once I'm playing quidditch for the Holyhead Harpies I won't have the time for a boyfriend." Still, her single status did not stop her from squabbling on endlessly about her dress color and who her friends would be going with, and what sort of music she hoped they'd play.

With a final hopeless effort to fix his hair, Harry sighed and went down to the common room to wait for Hermione. Once down there, he found many other Gryffindor boys sitting in their dress robes looking equally flustered and uncomfortable. "Girls love to make you wait" one of them complained gruffly.

"Who're you going with Harry?" one of them asked, offering him a flask of firewhiskey which he gladly took a long swig from to calm his nerves.

"Hermione" he said with a small smile, ignoring the looks the boys exchanged with each other.

Just as the boys were half way to being properly loaded, the girls started to come down the staircase one by one. Harry waited, half nervous and half excited. He saw Ginny first, who looked quite breath taking in a dark colored dress that suited her fiery hair quite well. She smiled at Harry and he grinned back.

"You look wonderful" he greeted.

"Oh Harry, you look quite handsome yourself!" she exclaimed, sizing him up.

"Really?" he asked skeptically, gazing down uncomfortably at his dress robes.

"Harry, one day you will realize how genetically fortunate you are and then the world of women best watch out!" she leaned in closer to him then and whispered in his ear, "Although, from what I understand, there's only one woman who you're concerned with right now."

"She told you?"

"Yes, the other night. I hope you're both ready for the media fall out. This could be bigger news than the death of Voldemort" she laughed, and Harry laughed with her, feeling light. And just then, he saw her coming down the stairs towards him.

For a moment he felt his heart might stop. He remembered the night he saw her at the Yule Ball and how amazing she had looked, but now with age she looked even more stunning. There was a light of happiness in her eyes and he felt elated at the concept that he was the cause of such joy.

Hermione had been spending all afternoon getting ready; wanting everything to be just so, but now that she saw Harry she thought that all the fuss had hardly mattered. The way he looked at her with such transparent love and devotion made her feel nearly faint. Everyone had gone on to the dance, and when she reached him, he was leaned against the back of the couch, grinning like a fool.

She kissed him and he leaned his forehead against hers, simply standing there for a moment. "I want to hold onto this moment a little longer" he explained.

"You have me forever" she responded, wrapping her arms against his neck. They were so young, and yet she knew this was the sort of love that could carry on a lifetime; the sort of rare, magnificent love that people spend most of their lives searching for and rarely find.

"I've never been able to keep anyone for very long" he sighed. "It seems loving me is sort of a curse for everyone who's ever done it." She could understand the bitter truth of his words, but she did not want to hear it just then. So she kissed him again, and they headed to the ball.

The Great Hall was in all its glory, it was hard to believe that less than a year before there had been dead bodies strewn on stretchers. Globes of light were suspended all about, creating a magical glow, and the enchanted ceiling above them showed snow gently falling. The students gathered in groups around the hall, whispering and laughing, waiting for the first brave couple to take to the dance floor.

As people saw Harry and Hermione enter hand-in-hand there was an increased volume in the excited whispers. "Mr. Potter, Miss Granger" a shrill voice greeted and they turned to see Professor McGonagall greeting them. "I must admit, keeping the press from attending this event was one of the more difficult things I've had to deal with in my brief time as Headmistress" she said with a wink.

"Well, we appreciate it Headmistress" Hermioned smiled politely.

"Yes, well, if you truly want to show your appreciation you'll get this ball started by getting on the dance floor."

Harry's jaw felt like it just about hit the floor. "You can't be serious professor."

"Serious as a heart attack Harry" she responded in a flat tone, sipping her punch (which Harry had the odd suspicion was spiked up a bit).

"Well Harry, we are head girl and head boy. It seems only fitting that we take the lead."

Harry groaned. "First the Yule Ball and now this. Voldemort may have failed at finishing me off, but I think I may die of humiliation nonetheless."

"Oh honestly Harry, you can be so melodramatic" Hermione admonished, grabbing his hand and forcibly dragging him across the dance floor. "It's not as though McGonagall didn't give us dancing lessons our fourth year."

"Have you ever known me to be good at listening?" he grumbled but then her hand was in and he felt much less awkward than he had with Parvati Patil. Plus, she was a very commanding lead (unsurprisingly) and so he found he just had to follow her and he wasn't even stepping on her toes.

At first he was conscious of the gawking faces of students as they blatantly pointed at their famous head girl and head boy moving onto the dance floor. But then that all seemed to fade into the background as he allowed himself the peace of swaying with her, and the opportunity of that experience allowed him to openly admire her beautiful features. Soon others were joining them in dancing and before they knew it, it was late into the evening and Harry found that he was truly enjoying himself.

When the dance was over he bid her goodnight from the foot of girls' dormitory steps. She wrapped her arms around his neck tightly and whispered in his ear, "I'll be in soon."

He smiled as he ran happily up the stairs, glad to feel as any normal as any teenage boy home from a dance that had gone in his favor. He half undressed, removing his robe, shoes, socks and shirt and then somewhere gave up and crawled under the warm covers, waiting for her with great anticipation and trying to fight off sleep.

Hermione wanted to be careful about sneaking out of the girls' dormitory. She managed to get away with it every night, but that was not a reason to throw caution to the wind in her opinion. She was, after all, head girl and she took the position with high regard.

After getting through her nightly rituals of changing into pajamas, washing her face, brushing her teeth and combing her hair she decided to calm her nerves by reading a chapter of her latest literary endeavor. She knew that Harry would probably laugh if he knew that she was using reading as a way to relax, but she was wound up from the dance and she needed to steady her mind. She had always prided herself on being collected.

After perhaps an hour had passed she neatly set her book aside and crept from the dormitory where it sounded as though most of the students had fallen asleep (or had snuck off somewhere for a snog). Still, she crept softly as she approached his room and slipped inside where his bedside lantern still glowed but he himself was fast asleep. She smiled to herself at how almost childish he looked rolled up in the blankets, his mouth partly open as he lightly snored.

She sat over him a moment, studying the way his dark lashed fall across his cheeks, casting a shadow from the nearby light. His features had become so familiar to her, and yet she felt she could never get enough of looking at him... or having him look at her. She crawled under the covers delicately as not to wake him, and rested her face near his until the scent of his soap and warmth of his body surrounded her. Here she felt at peace, and her nightmares rarely visited her in his bed.

Seeming to sense she was there he moved slightly, rolling closer towards her until his lips lightly brushed her brow in what might have been a kiss. The slight gesture made her feel butterflies in her stomach, and slowly she curled her hand around his belt buckle, which in his laziness he had failed to remove.

This caused him to wake fully in more ways than one, and in the faint light she saw his green eyes looking into hers from mere inches away. She took the initiative to close the gap and press her lips against his, his lips parting to allow her to deepen the kiss. He allowed her to take control of the situation, rolling onto his back as her hands worked to remove his belt.

"Are you sure?" he whispered heavily into her ear, intoxicated by her touch, her scent, her whole being.

"Absolutely" she smiled.

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When Hermione woke in the morning it was with a fuzzy feeling of disbelief followed by and fluttering feeling of excitement. Harry was still heavily asleep on his stomach, his black hair in extreme disarray. He seemed to be smiling in his sleep which she found to be additionally funny. The night before felt half like a dream; his kisses, the way his hands shook slightly as he removed her clothes, the way he gently touched her skin.

But it was definitely not a dream. She knew this because she was wearing his button up which she buried her face in the sleeve of now, enjoying the softness of the fabric and the way it smelled of him. She moved half onto him, resting her head lazily between his shoulder blades, moving with the rise and fall of his breathing.

"Let's never leave this bed" he grumbled from below her, his mouth muffled by the pillow.

"I do not think that's an option" she sighed. "I want to see what's being said in the papers about us." She moved to climb from the bed but he quickly caught her, dragging her back down onto the mattress with him.

_God, I forget how fast he moves_she thought to herself as he gave her a mischievous smile.

"Seriously, let me get the paper" she laughed, playfully pushing him away and he easily fell to the side.

"Oh alright" he laughed. "I'll get up at some point. What time is it?"

"Five o'clock."

"In the morning?" he gaped.

"Well, I don't want anyone to see me coming out of your room" she explained sheepishly. "I am after all, head girl."

Harry looked at her in wide eyed surprise for a moment. And then he just laughed.

She changed back into her clothes and threw his shirt at him, sticking her tongue out at him indignantly, and then she headed out. He stretched out happily and then sank back into his dreams.

When he woke up his first order of business was to find Hermione, who was easy enough to spot out at breakfast, her face buried in the Daily Prophet and a pile of magazines by her side. "Anything good?" he asked, casually plopping down across from her.

She hastily threw the paper down and rolled her eyes. "Honestly, I don't know where these things come from. The Daily Prophet was about the only one that's not utter bollocks, and that's still absurd because it's supposed to be actual news. I don't think your love life ought to qualify as news."

"Haven't you heard? Everything I do is news. I can't so much as take a..."

"Don't finish that sentence, I'm eating" she interrupted.

He grinned at her and grabbed the Daily Prophet and read the article that had somehow been contrived overnight through interviews with students, since the press had been banned. Hermione was right, the article wasn't too terrible although a little sickeningly sweet. The headline wrote "The Boy Who Has Finally Found Love" which sort of made him want to wretch.

_Last night Hogwarts held a winter ball as a means of celebrating the school's recovery from the Second Wizard War. In attendance were key members of what has been referred to as "Dumbledore's Army" including Ginevra Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Hermione Granger and of course, our beloved hero, Harry Potter._

_Harry Potter was rated this year's Most Eligible Bachelor by Witch Weekly due to his fame for defeating He Who Shall Not Be Named, his skills as Gryffindor's Quidditch Captain, his role as Hogwarts Head Boy and his dashing good looks. However, Harry did not attend the ball alone according to students present._

_"He came with his best friend Hermione Granger" reports one Hufflepuff sixth year. "But it was clear that they were more than just friends."_

_"The way he looks at her would make any girl melt in her shoes, but I think it's clear that she feels very strongly about him too" speculated another student from the Ravenclaw house._

Harry had decided he'd gotten through enough of the article and he carefully laid it before him, his expression conveying nothing as he helped himself to a bowl of porridge. Hermione eyed him suspiciously as he ate.

"Did you read the part where is says I have dashing good looks?" he finally asked.

"Ugh, you'll be unbearable now" she scoffed. But he could see the light of laughter in her cinnamon brown eyes. "You know, like I said, that's not the worst. You should see what Witches Weekly has to say on the topic."

"I'd rather not" he frowned. "I didn't even know I'd been elected most eligible bachelor. It's sick really."

"Well, then you really don't want to see what Playwitch writes about you."

His jaw dropped at this and he went slightly pale. "Please tell me you're joking."

She shrugged innocently.

"Hah, nice try, but you would never read that magazine anyways. Would you? Hermione?" he yelped, but she just smirked at him, gathering up her things and leaving the Great Hall and a very flustered Harry glued to his seat.

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When Harry returned to his room he realized he had bigger worries than Playwitch (which now he had the troublesome urge to want to read, but had no desire to be seen picking up a copy. He could only imagine what the magazines would have to say about _that_). In the whirlwind of classes starting after Christmas break and his emerging new relationship with Hermione and practicing quidditich with Ginny and catching up with Ron, he had entirely forgotten about his last letter from Mr. Anonymous.

Tonight was the night that the stalker letter writer wanted to meet with him in the Forbidden Forest. He pulled the letter out and read it once more. The writer promised answers to his many questions, but he wasn't sure he had any desire to hear them. He sat on his bed and puzzled for a moment over what he should do. Then he whispered "incendio" and watched the letter burn slowly in his hands.

He would choose happiness over mystery and adventure from now on.

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**AUTHOR's NOTE** Slightly shorter chapter this time around, much more will be revealed in the next chapter. Hope you enjoyed. (Also, apologies for any typos, I try to carefully proof read but things seem to still sneak by on occasion). Please review, it is much appreciated!


	9. Chapter 9: Inescapable Fate

Harry had a difficult time falling asleep. Somewhere there was a man waiting for him in the woods with a message about Les Maudites and a bunch of other stuff that was undoubtedly sinister and depressing. Hermione had decided to spend the night in her room due to a major test the next morning, and Harry was thankful because he was sure he would have driven her mad with his relentless tossing and turning.

He tossed off the blankets, feeling too hot, and then instantly was cold again, gathering them up around his body with irritation. _That's it. I am going to sleep. _He thought resolutely, clamping his eyes shut tightly.

When he closed his eyes he could suddenly see ancient eyes staring back at him. They were unrecognizable to him, the shade of grey slate but filled with a sort of anguish that made Harry immediately open his eyes once more, nearly screaming out. This continued to persist each time he attempted to sleep.

He began to pace around his room until he was tired and even tried reading for class, but as soon as his eyes grew heavy he would see those grey eyes cutting into him. He felt feverish and sick with exhaustion, and as the clock hit midnight he took a sharp breath.

He listened to the clock tower chime... once... six times... ten times... and finally twelve times to announce it was officially midnight. Harry stood in his pajamas, looking wildly around his room, expecting something to happen, or another letter to just appear. But nothing happened, and he let out a long sigh of relief. Perhaps now he could finally sleep.

He laid down on his bed, enjoying the cool sheets against his sweaty skin. He had been all worked up for nothing, twisted up inside and it was probably all some sick joke. _Just a sick joke_he thought as he let his tired eyes close, this time to the calming darkness. Nobody was glaring back at him in his mind's eye and he wondered if he'd imagined it all in the first place.

And then there was a screaming in his skull that threatened to rip it apart.

Harry rolled from the bed, crashing heavily to the stone floor in a way that seemed to instantly bruise the ribs he had landed on. He grabbed at his head, trying to hold it together as the screaming resumed, and frantically he tried to kick himself free of his sheets.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER. COME TO ME NOW!" a voice boomed threw the shrill ringing in his ears. Harry clamped his eyes shut and now he could see the man who spoke to him, an ancient looking man with a hunched back standing in a clearing in the Forbidden Forest. The man was leaning heavily on a walking stick, and while he looked as though he could barely stay upright, there was great power radiating from around him. And his voice echoed through Harry's head with such power.

"COME NOW HARRY!"

Harry screamed out at the pain, pulling his body slowly across the floor. He had experienced the cruciatus curse before, but this was worse, it felt like death would be preferable in every way possible. He felt blood slowly leak from his ears and trickle down his neck. He wanted to tell the old man to go fuck himself, to leave him alone, but words were not an option.

_I need to make it to the forest_Harry thought through the pain, still dragging his writhing body across the room. At once the shrill screaming faded, his head still ringing but the pain lessened enough to allow him to dizzily pull himself to his feet.

Each of his joints felt like they were on fire as he walked barefooted down the cold stone steps and out of Gryffindor tower. He was clothed only in his thin cotton pajamas, but he was desperate to get to the forest, desperate to make the pain cease.

He stepped out into the cold winter night, the soles of his uncovered feet shooting with pain as they sunk into the freezing snow. But the pain of the cold on his flesh was nothing in comparison to the ringing that persisted in his brain. It made the burning of his scar feel mild in comparison, and he didn't notice as blood still freshly trickled from his ears, soaking the collar of his shirt.

An icy wind was ripping across the campus of the school as the dark haired boy made his way to the edge of the forest, his body shaking heavily as pale moonlight glistened from the blood plastered to his neck and dripping down his chin. His teeth chattered to the point where they might shatter, but he had no strength to summon a warming charm. He just kept placing one foot numbly in front of the other, creating deep footprints in the snow.

The woods were dark and blocked out nearly all moonlight, but somehow he knew where to go. He weaved between the massive tree trunks, and none of the magical creatures living in the forest dared come near him. They had all fled as soon as they felt the presence of the old man.

Harry stumbled through a pricker bush and landed on his hands and knees in the snow, only a body length away from the old man who still leaned heavily on his cane, peering down at Harry through his dark grey eyes. The pain in Harry's head suddenly vanished.

"I am sorry I had to resort to such tactics. You should have just come as I requested."

Harry felt a dim surge of anger at the man, but his fatigue and frozen muscles kept him from being able to move or even talk. He remained crouched on his hands and knees, breathing heavily as long clouds of breath billowed from his mouth in the cold air.

"You are cold and in pain. I will help you Mr. Potter, as I truly do admire you. I know you'll find this hard to believe, but you are the single most special person I have encountered in two thousand years."

Harry felt his body slowly warming, and he could breathe more easily now. He rose to his feet and the cold ice beneath his exposed toes seemed to grow comfortably warm. The pain in his joints melted away and he felt his spine straighten until he was standing evenly, looking the old man straight in the face.

"Who are you?" Harry asked, feeling strong and resolute as he slowly slid his wand from his sleeve.

"I have had many names. So many, that I would say names are quite irrelevant."

"You have been writing me those letters."

"Yes, I have. I first heard of you when your mother sacrificed her life for you when you were just a baby. I have been watching you very closely ever since. I meant it when I said that I had to be very patient in waiting for you to kill Voldemort and that I was very pleased when you finally did so. I could have easily disposed of him myself had that been important to me. But if I had done so, you never would have received the third mark of death. And that was most crucial. Harry, you have been marked by death in the three most important ways. To me, this makes you very special."

"You want me to become a Damned One?" Harry growled. "Why would I ever do that?"

"It's a fair question you pose. Were you of a different nature, I would simply explain that becoming part of Les Maudites will give you power beyond your most wild dreams. But, I know from close examination that such does not interest you. So instead, I will tell you why you must give up you right to die. You must do this for my sake."

Harry stared angrily at the man, whose body looked nearly warped by age and eyes impossibly tired. "Why should I do anything like that for you? You send me these cryptic letters for nearly a year now, you pull me from my bed and torture me, and now you want me to give up my 'right to die' whatever that means."

"Right to die is just as it sounds. You have seen a glimpse of the afterlife Harry. You know there is peace there, and there are the souls of the people you have loved. Wizards like Voldemort crave immortality, but that is because they are insane fools. Voldemort was never the most evil wizard to ever live, just one of the more twisted and idiotic. He was weak in many ways, ugly and a perversion of nature. His desire to live forever was, in truth, the endeavor not of a powerful wizard, but of a mad man. There is great solace in death, and great torment in living to see everything around you change, again and again.

I can tell you this for certain; I have lived for 2,000 years now."

"You are a Damned One?" Harry surmised.

"Yes. I am the only Damned One to exist since Agapios, the wizard whom you read of in Anna Alvarez' report. I have told nobody this before except for a French scholar whom I was briefly very close friends with. The knowledge I imparted on him led to his murder, as you know."

"Why are you telling me then?"

"Because you are the only one I've encountered in my many years to be marked by death in three ways. And only if you choose to travel to the underworld and willingly give up your right to die will you be able to become a Damned One. And only then will I be released of my powers, and finally be able to pass on."

"So... you want me to do this so that you can finally die?" Harry asked, incredulous. The old man nodded slowly, a deep sorrow glimmering in his eyes. "No. I will not do that. However much I'd like to kill you, I am not signing up to become some super wizard who slowly goes mad."

The old man's face twisted into a contorted look of rage and Harry's head suddenly spun with pain again, causing him to fall to the frozen ground once more. "YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW TIRED MY SOUL HAS BECOME!" the man's voice roared in Harry's head. Harry tried to fight the pain, and he could vaguely feel his wand still in his hand. He tried to point it at the ancient wizard, but the old man merely smirked. "DO REALLY THINK THAT WAND WILL DO ANYTHING AGAINST ME?"

The wand dropped from Harry's hand and into the snow as his world spun with pain, the pressure in his head growing to torturous levels. _Kill me_Harry thought weakly, and all at once the pain stopped. Harry was swallowed by the overwhelming silence of the forest as slowly his eyes adjusted to see the black branches of the trees above his obscuring a view of the moon and stars beyond.

The old man crouched down beside Harry, but as Harry slowly came back to his senses he realized that it was not the old man's face he was looking into but that of Professor Freeman. "Professor?" he whispered hoarsely.

"I really did like you Harry" the grey eyed teacher said sadly. "I had a feeling you would be a fighter, that you would rather die than cave in to torture. You have a very strong soul."

"You... you're Professor Freeman?" slowly realizing that those grey eyes were the same as that of the old man.

"I chose this form because I knew you would bond to someone who reminded you of yourself. Someone physically alike you in many ways... a fan of quidditch and with great knowledgeable about fighting the dark arts. I'm sorry for misleading you, but I needed to get closer to you. I needed to fully know you."

"You don't know... anything about me" Harry managed, still unable to move, spread out on his back in the snow.

"I know enough" Freeman said sadly. "Enough to get you to do my bidding."

Freeman was now sitting cross legged in the snow, looking almost casual as he watched Harry, blood spreading out from around his skull and seeping into the white ground around him. "You are truly selfless in nature Harry. I realized this about you very quickly. I needed to find something that you truly love to hold against you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the same small pocket mirror he had shown Harry at Hogwarts. "Remember this?"

Harry might have nodded, but his body was still immobile.

"I told you it was like the Mirror of Erised, that it shows what your heart most desires. But I lied somewhat. This mirror shows that which you cannot live without. And Harry, I've now seen what you'd be willing to give anything for... or should I say who?"

He turned the mirror to Harry, the silver handle glinting slightly in the dim moonlight. Harry looked up and saw Hermione there, sleeping soundly. Suddenly, he felt rage fill his heart and he found his voice through the pain and fatigue.

"DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH HER!" Harry shouted.

"Ah Harry, true love is such a rare thing. Believe me, I have lived long enough to witness it, and it is far from common. I'm willing to bet you would become a Damned One just to save her life."

"I would, I will" Harry said, his tone one of panic.

"But Harry, I have also learned not to trust a man on his word. So sadly, I will have to give you more incentive than that. I will have to give you no choice but to willingly give your right to die up to die."

"What do you mean?" Harry demanded in a strangled voice.

Freeman crept closer to Harry until his mouth was so close to his ear that Harry could feel his breath as he whispered. "This is most important Harry; if you want to end her suffering, you will have to become a Damned One. There is no other way."

And then he was gone, leaving Harry lying alone in the middle of the forest, his clothing drenched and his body furiously shivering. He felt at first like he could barely move, but forced himself to find the strength. He needed to get to her, needed to make sure she was okay. He sat up with great effort, and then plunged his icy hands into the snow to search for his wand. Gripping it in his trembling fingers he rose to his feet, and then began to run.

' ' ' ' '' ' ' ' ' '' ' '' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' '' ' ' ' ' '' ' '' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' '' ' ' ' ' '' ' '' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' '' ' ' ' ' '' ' '' ' ' '

Hermione shot straight up in her bed, screaming Harry's name out. In the dark she suddenly realized she was alone in her own room, and that there was nobody to save her from the searing pain ripping through her chest like a knife. She could hardly breath as she felt a terrible heat creep over her body, burning her.

She stumbled from her bed, feeling the world tip upside down and then right side up again. _I'm horribly ill_she realized, and she knew she needed help so she crept slowly from her room, trying to ignore the nauseating dizziness that surrounded her. She ran her hands across the course stone walls to keep from falling down the steps as she made her way to the common room. She needed to find Harry, but she could hardly see anymore. She felt the soft carpeted flooring of the common room beneath her burning feet, and then pitched forward, plummeting face-first.

Before her head could collide with the ground she was quickly swept up by strong arms which gathered her up, holding her close. The body next to hers was cold, almost freezing, but it felt good against her feverish skin. Slowly she regained her sight, and was looking up into emerald green eyes that were sick with worry.

"Harry" she muttered deliriously, slowly reaching up her hand to touch his face. "Where did you come from?"

He didn't answer, he merely picked her up in his arms and started walking out of the common room with wide, purposeful strides. He tried not to cry as he held her in his trembling arms, the cold washing out of his body due to the extreme heat that was coming off of her in waves. His feet had blistered from the snow, but even with her added weight he did not notice as he carried her to the medical ward. She had fainted, her hand still weakly cupping the back of his neck where the blood from earlier had frozen.

When he arrived at the medical ward he kicked the door open and cried frantically for help. Madam Pomfrey emerged moments later from her adjoining room, holding a half burned candle as she shuffled out in her bathrobe. "Harry?" she cried out in alarm.

"Help her" Harry cried breathlessly, lying her pale body down on the nearest bed.

"My God, what happened to you?" she gasped, shocked by the amount of blood soaked around his shoulders and matted into his hair.

"HELP HER!" Harry shouted again, this time a gleam of menace in his green eyes that scared the nurse. She turned her half-awake gaze onto the girl who laid in the bed, and could see that she was gravely ill. She didn't need to reach out and touch Hermione's sweating forehead to feel the heat radiating from her body.

"She had a very high fever" Madame Pomfrey said tersely. "Bring me lots of wet cloths".

At first Harry couldn't seem to tear himself from Hermione's side, but then he urgently sprung to action, running off as Pomfrey quickly began to conduct healing spells on the still unconscious girl. Harry came back and quickly covered her body in the cool clothes, and allowed the nurse to go about her job in peace. He watched her through frightened eyes, holding Hermione's hand tightly.

After what felt like an eternity of administering potions and attempting spells, Madam Pomfrey sat down exhausted at the foot of the bed, her eyes a light with fear as she looked at the unhappy, blood soaked boy. "Nothing seems to be helping... I have never seen anything like this in all my years. We should take her to St. Mungos immediately, but I'm afraid of moving her in this condition. I'll have to summon a specialist to arrive urgently!"

Harry nodded his heavy and still aching head. The nurse scuffled off quickly and Harry lifted himself onto the bed, laying very close to her as he watched her take painful breaths. "This is all my fault" he whispered. "Everyone I love is always made to suffer. I should have never let us become this close... I should have..."

But he trailed off, unsure of what he should have done differently. Not loved her? Had that ever even been a choice? She was so brilliant he could not help but greatly admire her since they first met, and then he saw her Gryffindor bravery and loyalty and how couldn't he love her?

But he had promised himself he would always watch over her, he would make up for her suffering by giving her the best life possible. And now here she lay, looking on the verge of death and he was entirely powerless to save her.

After what felt like an eternity Madam Pomfrey returned, a tall slender wizard in her wake. Harry moved to give the medi-wizard room to examine the patient. "He is the best doctor at St. Mungos" Madam Pomfrey assured Harry.

The doctor eyed Harry warily as he began to take numerous instruments from a small black bag. "I think it is best if the boy clean himself up while I do my examination. I will have many questions for him."

Harry was reluctant to remove himself from her proximity, but there was nothing he could do but try to clear his head to supply the answers the medi-wizard would need. Madam Pomfrey gently took Harry by the elbow and led him to her quarters where she refrained from pestering him with questions and instead offered him a warm basin of water to clean in and a fresh white shirt. As he cleaned his body in solitude he couldn't believe the sheer amount of blood that was soaked into his hair and stuck to his skin. He felt like he was scrubbing for ages before his skin was finally clean.

He looked in the mirror and the face looking back was hardly recognizable. When he had stared into the grey eyes of the old man, he had seen such intense pain that it shocked him. Now his own eyes looked somewhat similar. To outlive everyone you love, to go on for thousands of years without anybody knowing your true name or nature, without love, without a place to belong. Harry pitied the old man, but he also felt a deep rooted hatred for him. A sort of burning hatred he had never before experienced. He hated him because he had played Harry like a fool, and had hurt that which mattered most to him. As far as Harry could tell, the old man had no level of humanity left to speak of.

And that was what scared Harry most as he stood isolated in the silence of his thoughts. If he chose to seek out this so-called underworld, if he chose to become a Damned One, how would his soul handle it? How could he bear the burden of all that power, of outliving the only person he had left to truly love, of being stuck wandering through thousands of years, waiting an eternity to be reunited with his parents who he'd been waiting to see since he was one years old.

How could he bare so much torment and not become evil? He would forget what it was to be human.

He pulled the clean white shirt over his head with a sigh, and when he walked out Madam Pomfrey was awake at the kitchen table of her humble living quarters, a steaming cup of tea set out for Harry. "Drink, it will help you from catching cold" she said softly.

"Thank-you" Harry replied, unsure if his stomach could handle the hot liquid, but trying nevertheless.

She studied the boy as he sat there sipping his tea and thought that he looked far more like a man these days and wondered how such young shoulders had carried such heavy burdens for so long. "You have frost bite" she noted. "Allow me to heal you."

He conceded, and the procedure was quick and painless. He had been healed many times by the nurse, and she had often seemed overbearing and fussy, but now he realized what a genuine heart she had. He thanked her once more, and then went to check on Hermione.

The room was dark, but a lantern by her bedside revealed that the doctor had completed his work, and he was now packing his belongings back into the little black bag. "Is she alright?" Harry asked hopelessly.

"I have gotten her into a stable condition for the time being, she needs to rest. But I regret to inform you Mr. Potter, that she can only last so long under the comforts of the careful charms I have built around her. Eventually the curse will win out, and she will be in incredible pain."

"Will she die?" Harry asked softly.

"Unfortunately no" replied the medi-wizard.

"Unfortunately?" Harry exclaimed angrily.

"Please understand Mr. Potter, the curse that has been put on her is very old magic, and very strong. I will research this to the greatest extent of my resources, but I fear this is far beyond the knowledge of modern wizarding medicine."

Harry swallowed hard, knowing the truth of the man's words. The magic was far more ancient than anything they could hope to cure, and far more powerful than what could be healed by a simple medi-witch or wizard. He heard Freeman's voice in his ear once more, whispering in the forest.

_If you want to end her suffering, you will have to become a damned one. There is no other way._

' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' '

Hermione woke from a wild and painful dream that involved fire slowly turning her flesh to dust and Harry trying to reach her, but the more he struggled the further away he seemed to be. In the dream she was faced with terrible memories again and again. Erasing her memory from her parents' lives. The face of Belletrix Lestrange as she took such joy in carving mudblood into Hermione's flesh. The moment she believed Harry had died, his body still and limp in Hagrid's arms.

Each time she would re-live the pain of the memory, and while she knew it was a dream the flames and burning pain kept dragging her down from escaping. She began to lose hope and resolve, thinking that she would very soon die, and then there was a faint blue glow through it all, and as she moved closer towards it she felt the pain relinquish bit by bit. After what felt like an eternity she was able to open her eyes and see that she was in the medical ward at Hogwarts.

The blue light in her dreams was an orb hovering over the bed, casting a pale blue beam onto her. She recognized it immediately from her advanced healing class. It was a stasis charm, a very advanced form of medical magic that was used to preserve the dying. _So I am dying then _she realized was a sharp pain of sorrow.

She realized she was able to move despite the fiery pain in her joints, and as she looked around she saw Harry's head rested on the edge of the bed, his body half falling out of his chair. He looked thoroughly exhausted, his skin a deathly shade of pale and dark crescent moons under his eyes. The only thing that assured her he was not dead was the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

She tried to remember what had happened, how she had ended up in this death bed. She recalled waking to excruciating pain in her chest, and barely making it down the stairs. She remembered falling as the heat of fever must have overtaken her body, and then being caught. She could barely remember Harry's arms around her. He seemed to have swooped out of nowhere like a guardian angel. And vaguely she remembered seeing blood... had it been her own?

Fighting her stiff joints she inspected her body, seeing no signs of impalement. Assured that she had not been bleeding she began to look over Harry as he slept. He also appeared to be free of visible wounds. She slowly moved herself to the foot of the bed to be closer to him, running her fingers through his soft hair as he slept.

Slowly the gesture woke him up and he snapped upright with a look of alarm in his eyes. "You're awake!" he nearly yelled, his expression wild with panic.

"Yes" she replied weakly. "Lay with me... please."

Wordlessly he helped situate her in the bed, even fluffing her pillows in a surprisingly gentle gesture of caring. He tucked her in carefully under the sheets of the hospital bed and then slid in beside her, sliding his arm under her as to cradle her against his chest. She felt suddenly at peace as they quietly lay there for some time.

"I'm dying aren't I?" she asked, trying not to cry.

"No" he responded, his tone unreadable.

"You don't have to lie to protect me Harry. I know what a stasis charm is for."

"It's not what you think" he responded slowly, trying to find the words to explain it all to her. "You've been cursed. It's very powerful and it won't kill you but it will cause you great pain. The charm is the only warding it off for now."

"Cursed?" she asked, and when he saw the fear in her eyes he felt like his heart shattered.

"Yes, by a Damned One. Mr. Anonymous. Or Professor Freeman. Whatever you prefer to call him. He is a 2,000 year old wizard and part of Les Maudites. He is very powerful, and very cruel... but it's my fault."

He buried his face against her shoulder and she felt a sudden wetness soaking through her night gown and realized that he was crying.

"I should have agreed to do what he asked when he asked me. I should have known better than to play with fate."

"What did he want from you Harry?" she asked, greatly alarmed.

"He wants me to go to the underworld. To give up my right to die and become a Damned One so that his soul will become free. I didn't want to do it... when the time comes, I want to embrace death, I want to see the afterlife. Nearly everyone I ever loved is there, somewhere."

He took in a sharp breath and wiped away his tears angrily. "But it's my fate, and I must do this or your suffering will never end."

"No!" she suddenly barked. "I read that report Anna Alvarez wrote Harry, and you can't become like that wizard Agapios. To see everything you ever loved vanish before your eyes will be to lose your humanity. Harry, you mustn't do this!"

His eyes flashed angrily. "And what other option is there? To watch you suffer all my life? As if that won't drive me mad?"

"I'm not suggesting that either Harry..." she paused for a moment, trying to determine just what she _was_in fact suggesting. And then she took a deep breath to steady her nerves for what she was about to say. She looked into his green eyes, those loving eyes that she knew so well.

"Harry, you're going to have to kill me."


	10. Chapter 10: Leaving Hogwarts

"Harry, you're going to have to kill me."

The words rang in his ears. He felt his throat constrict and he pulled away from her, angrily looking out the window. "That's obviously not an option" he said, his tone dark.

She reached out nervously, clutching the back of his shirt. He pulled away, striding quickly from where she could reach him. "Harry..." she started softly.

"NO!" he yelled, turning on her quickly, his eyes flashing with anger. "I am not going to kill you Hermione, how could you even suggest that?"

"Then if not you someone else" she responded, tears freely streaming down her face. "You can't let me suffer."

"I won't. I am going to figure out how to go to this underworld or whatever the hell it is, and I am going to become a Damned One and then I will be strong enough to fix you."

She watched him, a tall silhouette against the window where the morning sun was now streaming through. The outside world was progressing as normal, as though nothing had changed, as if death wasn't visiting once more. He had turned away from her, but she could hear the determination in his voice. Sometimes there was a resolution in him that almost scared her.

"I don't want that for you Harry. I don't want to die, but neither do I want you to live forever. If I am... euthanized" she stopped choking up at the word. In truth she could barely believe she was saying it. Hadn't it been only the day before that they were making jokes at breakfast? Hadn't it been only two nights since the winter ball? How could everything change so quickly, how could it end like this?

He could tell from the pain in her voice that she was scared to die, and she was merely putting on a courageous face to try to hide it. He had reason to believe there was an afterlife, and that it was a good place, but it was still a mystery. A mystery he had no desire to send her off towards. He walked back to her side and crouched at the bedside so his eyes were level with hers. He wiped her tears from her face, marveling again at how beautiful and perfect she was. He wanted to keep her. He was fed up with losing everything he had ever loved.

"I am going to do this Hermione. I am going to set this right."

"You will only make it worse" she whispered fearfully. "If you become a Damned One, you will eventually become everything you fought against your whole life."

"I won't" he resolved, not believing his own words but not caring. "The old man, he chose to curse you because he knew you are the one thing I cannot live without. And he was right. I'm not me without you."

"I'll still die eventually" she reminded him, now reaching her weak hand out to gently stroke a lock of his black hair back from his face. "And then what will you do?"

"I don't know" he admitted. "But I'll be grateful for the time we will have. It can't be over just yet. If I let you die, I will kill myself as well. And I don't know much about the afterlife... but I suspect that sort of death will not lead to where I want to be."

She closed her eyes, suddenly feeling very weary. She didn't know what to think or do. What did she know of the afterlife? What did she know about dying? She was always a know-it-all but there were plenty of mysteries that still eluded her 18 year old mind. She wanted to have the right thing to say to convince him, but she was scared herself. She wanted to be strong for him but she felt so weak. And slowly she was already drifting back into sleep, and she tried to fight it, forcing her heavy lids open once more.

He was close to her once more, his lips gently kissing her cheek. "Sleep now. I love you. I will fix this."

_No Harry _was what she tried to say. But no words came out, and she lapsed back into a deep, dark slumber. Harry watched over her for nearly a half hour as she slept, and then decided he had wasted enough time. He had a lot left to do.

He walked briskly through the castle, his stride quick with intent. Students were getting ready for classes, but nobody dared to speak to him. The look in his eyes gleamed with fury, and anyone who passed him quickly scuttled away, hardly able to recognize him. When he got to his room he changed his clothing and packed bare essentials, still unsure of what to do or where to go.

He grabbed Anna Alvarez' report from the shelf and leafed through it in an agitated manner. The section discussing Agapios' descent into the underworld was extremely vague. In fact, it was downright useless. It merely read, "after receiving the third mark of death, the wizard Agapios is said to have made contact with the underworld. There he gave his right to die in exchange for magnificent powers and immortality."

Harry nearly set the entire useless report on fire, but then decided to stuff it in his bag. He slung the bag in his shoulder and grabbed his broomstick. There was nobody for him to talk to, nobody who could help him. Hermione was cursed, Freeman had turned out to be an impostor, and everyone else was dead. Of course... there was Ron.

Ron was loyal, brave and true. But he was not clever for the most part. In fact, he was downright slow at times which had endlessly enraged Hermione who was on a whole different pace than either of the boys. Harry highly doubted that Ron would have any wisdom to shed upon the situation, but Harry desperately needed some to talk it through with. _Maybe just by going over it all something will occur to me._

Harry trudged his was to Hogsmeade, his head full of thoughts. _Why the fuck couldn't the old man give me a better idea of what I need to do? For all the stupid flowery letters he sent me couldn't at least one include the address to the underworld?_

When he arrived at Hogsmeade the joke shop was quiet. It was a week day and aside from a motherly looking woman who was amusing herself with a love potion, the store was empty. Ron was sleeping at the counter, his feet propped up lazily.

Harry slammed his fist down on the counter with unnecessary force, startling poor Ron from his nap so greatly that the lanky red head rocked back in his seat, flailing his arms to recover and then hopelessly pitching backwards and crashing to the ground.

"Harry what the hell?" he cursed, rubbing his head which had taken a good knocking.

"Sorry, but we need to speak. Now."

"Don't you have-er-school?" he asked weakly. Harry didn't respond, simply grabbing his friends arm and yanking him into the back room.

"What's all this about?" Ron yelped, finally realizing the urgency in Harry's features.

"Hermione" Harry said, and that word turned the sleepy, confused Ron into an intensely focused listener. "She's been cursed. That Mr. Anonymous I told you about, he is a Damned One, and he cursed her so that I will become a Damned One myself. It's powerful magic, very old. And the only way I can save her is to do what he asked. I need to go to the underworld and I need to give up my right to die."

Harry said this all so quickly that Ron's head was spinning with confusion. "The underworld? Right to die? I'm used to some pretty cryptic shit when it comes to you mate, but this is a whole new level."

"I have to agree to immortality" Harry explained shortly, unfairly wishing Ron would just get with the program.

"And the problem is..."

"Ron, would you really want to outlive everyone you've ever known?" Ron paled, fully considering the impact of Harry's words. "Dumbledore once told me not to pity the dead, but to pity the living, especially those without love. Those without love can become monstrous... just look at Voldemort."

Ron gaped at Harry, unsure of what to say. He could see the pain in his best friend's face and he knew the time had finally come that the comfort they had been living in since the war would be gone. "What can I do to help?"

"In the report Anna Alvarez wrote she discussed that the ancient wizard Agapios had to travel to the underworld to receive the final mark of death. But what the underworld is, or where it is I have no idea."

"Try the library?" Ron offered weakly.

"There are practically a million references to the underworld between Greek myth and other ancient tales, but that's all they are; myths. There's no way to tell what might be embedded in fact and what is total hogwash."

"Well, what about this Anna Alvarez? She might know something more than what she was willing to write in her report."

Harry suddenly remembered the letter from Mr. Anonymous; _She is a charming woman, in more way than one._What had he meant by that?

"You're right Ron" Harry promptly announced.

"Whaa?" Ron responded, not used to hearing those two words strung together with his name.

"We need to find Anna Alvarez... or whatever her real name is. Hermione told me that she was using a pen name to avoid being attacked over her report. That might make finding her quite complicated."

Harry took the now somewhat wrinkled report from his bag and began to madly look through it once more, paging aimlessly as Ron stared helplessly over Harry's shoulder. "We could sure use Hermione's help on this" Ron said glumly.

Harry gave him a scathing look. "I am not going to ask for her help in her condition. I really don't need to hear her ask me to kill her again."

"She what?" Ron asked, turning ghastly. Harry didn't respond, simply looking back at the report with a determined and somewhat frightening look on his face. "Listen mate, I'm sure this is really hard..."

"I don't need a brotherly chat right now" Harry snapped. "Everyone I have ever loved is dead and I'm not letting her go too. What we NEED to do is figure out how to find this Anna Alvarez."

Ron wasn't sure what to say, so he backed away from his furious friend and turned his attention to gazing out the window, trying to wrap his head around what to do or say. He really did feel lost trying to deal with Harry on his own.

"Spain" Harry said suddenly. "Hermione said she had to request this report from a library in Spain. Maybe that's where Alvarez lives, maybe that's why it was only published there."

"So... we go to Spain" Ron slowly followed. "And then what? Ring the librarian's neck until he or she coughs up the real name and address?"

Harry frowned. He knew that was a highly improbable plan. "Well... she wrote the report based on ancient hieroglyphics found from a wizarding community excavation. She translated them because she is the only one who knows how to... which means that if we can find out who is the top expert in ancient runes then we may be able to deduce her real identity."

"Now there's a plan" Ron agreed.

"It says here that the tablets are being stored at the Library of Sorcery in Madrid."

"So, Spain it is."

"Spain it is" Harry echoed.

' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' '

Hermione woke up to a dark room and supposed she had been sleeping away the daylight hours. She had been dreaming about flames once more, but her dreams had been less painful than the night before. It seemed that as long as she managed to stay focused on the soothing blue light she could keep from falling further back into the sickness and panic.

She wondered how long the stasis charm would ward off the excruciating pain she knew she was bound for. She wondered how much longer until she would be begging for death again. It was too horrible to ponder, so she lit the lamp beside her hospital bed and slowly propped herself up to a sitting position. It was an unusually difficult struggle, and she realized that her body was already weakening from fighting off the curse.

In the dim light of the lamp she was able to see that a letter had been propped on the bedside counter top with her name etched in a messy and very familiar scrawl. She reached out to grab it and was alarmed by the pale shade of her own skin and the way it was shaking slightly. She ripped the letter open and naturally it was from Harry.

_Hermione,_

_You've probably just woken up and realized that I am gone. You probably know what I've left to do, and I know you don't agree. You are probably upset with me, and I understand why._

_But I honestly don't have an option. In life we are always being confronted by choices, and the actions we take define who we are. In this case, I do not feel like I even have a choice. To let you die would be unbearable, and it would not end this conflict between the old man and myself. To die myself would be the only option, but it is not one I am willing to accept just yet._

_I know that running into danger without a plan is something you have often warned me about. But I sense that this is my fate, and maybe it has been all my life. There are some things worth fighting against, but more importantly, some things are worth fighting FOR. And to me, there is nothing more important than being able to keep you._

_I hope you trust that I will make this righ; that I promise to find a way. I also hope you are not terribly mad at me. I will be back very soon._

_-Harry_

She held the letter tightly in her hands despite their fatigue. She already missed him painfully, and couldn't imagine how he would think she was angry. She wished he hadn't gone, and she didn't know what terrible consequences there might be. But she couldn't blame him either. She couldn't say she wouldn't do exactly the same were their roles reversed.

As she lay in the dark she felt a dark cloud of fear come over her like a cold chill, and despite the fact that her body was running at a feverish temperature she pulled the blankets around her more tightly. If Harry accomplished his goal, he would come back and save her. And then what? They could return to their lives, but it would never be normal... he would have to cope with the burden of powers he never wanted, and eventually he would watch her and everyone else die and be left alone wandering the world aimlessly.

In truth, she deeply feared what he would become. She feared the knowledge that it would all be her fault. And most of all, she hated the feeling that anything involving Harry could give rise such fearful emotions within her. She had always thought of him as pure, honorable and virtuous in a way that was exceptionally rare. And now, it felt like all of that would be destroyed.

She felt the heavy exhaustion of sleep start to claim her once more. She could hardly believe her body could slumber as much as it had been, but at least she was not in too much pain yet. Her joints throbbed in a very passive way, as if warning her that the fire was coming soon, and she would burn horribly.

_Come back to me Harry _she thought as her eyes lost focus and her body gave into sleep. _Come back, it isn't worth the price._

' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' '

Harry had never been to Spain before. For some reason, in his mind he had pictured that it would be sunny and warm, but when he and Ron arrived after a night of flying, it was anything but a welcoming scene. Since it was still February the temperature was only barely ten degrees Celsius and dark clouds hung heavy over the city, blocking out the sunrise as people began to emerge from their homes and head to work.

Harry barely had time to fixate his weary eyes on their surroundings, and he began to walk hastily down the street when Ron quickly grabbed his arm to stop him. "We still don't know where we're going" Ron reminded Harry. "And we're going to be surrounded by muggles soon. We should probably do something with these here brooms."

Harry was glad Ron's head was screwed on a bit more tightly than his own. The past couple nights had yielded little to no sleep for Harry, and in retrospect he had hardly eaten. They took cover in a dark alley to hide their actions, and Harry used a simple charm to expand the bag and make it lighter. Hermione had taught him how during their hunt for the horocruxes. He smiled lightly thinking about her little sack filled with almost everything imaginable. But the thought of her, possibly already in pain, made the smile vanish rapidly.

"Let's get something to eat" Ron suggested. "I'm starving, I can't think on an empty stomach."

Harry felt annoyed by this comment, but realized from the growling of his own stomach that there might be some merit to it. They had not taken the time to find out how to get to Madrid's Library of Sorcery, and they had no real course of action for finding it. Sitting down and filling their stomachs was, in many ways, the only logical course of action until they figured out the next step.

They found a dingy cafe around the corner and exhausted to go much further they settled on a couple rickety seats by the door. They ordered some food and coffee and ate furiously, not talking to each other. Harry had been afraid that his nerves would make his stomach uncomfortable, but there were no complaints as the hot coffee and food seemed to give him strength and wake him up some.

On his last mouthful of food Ron managed to finally ask, "so now what?"

Harry scratched his head at a loss for words. They were in a strange country without any allies to even point them in the right direction. He recalled how Diagon Alley could be accessed in London through a brick wall, but he didn't suppose they could just wander the city whacking on every brick they came across. A second stupid thought occurred to him, which was to just walk around the city with his scar prominently showing until someone from the magic community recognized him. After all, Freeman had once said he was quite famous internationally. But then, Freeman had been a complete lying wanker.

Harry was no closer to a solid solution when Ron suddenly reached into his pocket and extracted what appeared to be a small toy. Harry hardly noticed as Ron rolled the bauble about in his hand, as if carefully pondering it. "I wonder" Ron suddenly said, breaking the long silence.

"Wonder what?" Harry responded irritably.

Ron held the object closer to Harry, and Harry realized it was in fact some sort of toy. It appeared to be a tiny owl carved from wood. "Hermione gave this to me for Christmas" Ron continued. "It helps you to find things you've misplaced. All you do if think very hard about what you're looking for and it will bring you there. Do you think if we envisioned the Library of Sorcery it could find it?"

Harry took the little wooden owl from Ron's hand and smiled softly at Hermione's cleverness. "I don't know if it would only work for things you've lost... but it's worth a try."

"Of course... we don't know what it looks like really" Ron scowled.

Harry ignored this, simply closing his hand tightly around the owl and closing his eyes. He pictured books, stacks upon stack of books. And then he pictured rolls of parchment, yellowing with age, and large quills sitting at the ready in an ink well. Ron was right, he had no idea what the library looked like. But he had a feeling it generally looked much like any other wizard library.

There was a faint buzzing in his hand. He opened his eyes slowly and the little wooden owl had come to life, flapping its wings excitedly and hooting softly. It buzzed a few dizzy circles around Harry's head and then shot off quickly, stopping and waiting for them to open the door.

"Brilliant" Harry smiled at Ron, and the two quickly got to their feet and proceeded to follow the charmed owl through the streets of Madrid. By now the sidewalks and road were quite busy with morning traffic and the boys received nasty glares from many who they brushed by in their wild rush to keep up with the hyper little owl.

It had begun to rain and so Harry and Ron found themselves becoming quite damp as they sprinted furiously down the side roads, puddles splashing up and soaking their pants legs, their hair plastered messily to their heads. The addition of umbrellas made following the owl even more of a feat as they dodged and ducked, hoping to avoid losing an eye.

The owl zipped across a busy interaction, causing Ron to come to a screeching halt, but Harry feared losing the way and continued bravely into the traffic, ignoring blaring horns and foreign curse words as he zig zagged between the motor vehicles. A blue car nearly hit him at the knees, but his reflexes were fast and he leapt easily onto the hood, then hurling himself to the sidewalk where the owl was still in sight. Had it not been for his seeker training, he may not have been able to keep watch over the terribly eager charm.

Harry was beginning to feel his lungs burn and his muscles ache when the owl finally jetted down a dark alley way that was covered in trash and smelled of rotting food. The owl had stopped and was fluttering happily in front of a wall with the faded graffiti painting of a dragon. Harry stood, pondering how to get through, letting the cold rain water trickle down his face.

Moments later Ron made his way loudly around the corner, his feet slapping heavily on the pavement as he stumbled to Harry's side, breathing heavily. Heavy drops of rain fell from the red heads hair as he doubled over trying to catch his breath. Harry gave him an amused slap on the back.

"That...owl... mental" was all Ron got out as he slowly regained himself.

Harry reached out and touched the wall with his hand but nothing happened. Then he withdrew his wand and ran the tip of it against the rough surface. And slowly, the wall peeled back to reveal a village on the other side.

"Wicked" Ron grinned.

It was still raining in the hidden village they entered, but there was a sense of relief at having made it that much closer to their goal. The two soggy boys gave each other an exhausted look and began to run once more, following the owl as it resumed its wild flight. Like Diagon Alley, this village was paved with cobblestones, but was more medieval looking in many ways. The buildings were made of heavy stone and in the distance on a hill was a massive castle. They turned down a tight road way and the owl finally stopped flat in front of a magnificent building with massive columns and a long staircase adorned with statues of magical creatures plated in gold.

The boys looked at each other and exchanged a grin of relief as the little owl fell neatly into Harry's hand so he might return it to Ron. They walked up the massive steps and were stopped at the doors by two hulking enchanted statues that resembled massive guard dogs.

"¿Qué negocio tiene aquí?" the statues asked in unison, their voices booming.

"Um... English?" Ron asked meekly.

"What business do you have here?" they repeated easily.

"Blimely, their smarter than we are" Ron noted.

"Well, they do work at a library" Harry joked lamely.

"What business do you have here?" they asked again, this time louder.

"We want to see an ancient tablet that is kept here. The one about the wizard Agapios."

The guard dogs suddenly lapsed into a series of barks and growls which made the boys back off in fear until they realized that the two were just communicating with each other in private. "We agree to permit you to enter" they declared in their booming voices.

"Thanks" Harry responded awkwardly.

"But first, we must verify your identities."

Thinking of Gringotts, both boys began to extract their wands, but to their surprise (and slight disgust) the dogs began to loudly sniff them from head to toe. "You are Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. You are both honored guests of the Library of Sorcery."

The dogs moved their heavy bodies away from the doorway, allowing the boys to enter. They exchanged a look at the strangeness of it all, and then stepped into the warm and welcoming air inside the building. The library was larger than anything Harry could have imagined. The book cases created row after row that extended farther than his eyes could see, and stretched to the high vaulted ceilings where thin ladders were the only means for attaining those books precariously stacked on the top shelves.

"Hermione would be in heaven!" Ron exclaimed, tilting his head back to squint at the impossibly high mountains of reading materials.

Harry smiled in agreement, but it hurt him to think about her. He felt the sudden urge to run again, to hurry the whole stupid adventure along, but he took a long breath to regain his calm. He closed his eyes and tried to think of a calming thought, of how her hair smelled, of how he felt when she told him she loved him as well. And then he regained control of his emotions and went to seek a librarian for help.

"Harry Potter?" exclaimed a voice in a thick Spanish accent. Harry turned quickly to see a short man carrying a large stack of books that almost towered over his head. The man had thick lens glasses and was bald with a short white beard.

"Er... do I know you?" Harry asked.

"No, we have not ever have met" he said in broken and somewhat peculiar English. "I have read you, in papers... you are hero!"

"Um, thanks. Let me help you with those books." Harry lifted some of the stack from the little old man's arms and Ron did the same, helping him set them down at a nearby table.

"Gracious" he said, bowing his bald head. "I am Hector."

"Nice to meet you Hector, this is my friend Ron Weasley."

Hector's eyes lit up with recognition of the tall red head, and he shook his hand with great eagerness. "Why you come to Madrid?"

"We are looking for something... a tablet about the ancient wizard Agapios."

Hector looked startled, blinking heavily behind his thick glasses. "Few know of this what you say."

"We need to know who translated it" Harry asked eagerly.

"Translate?" Hector repeated, slowing down from the rapid cadence with which he had greeted them. "Translate... only one translate the tablet. Senorita Morales."

Harry's eyes lit up, feeling infinitely relieved at how easily they had come upon an answer. He almost felt that he could scoop the small old man up and hug him, but he cautiously refrained. "Do you know where to find her?"

To this, Hector merely grinned, and gestured for them to quickly followed them back outside. As they stepped into the rain and past the massive guard statues, they stood at the top of the stairs, able to see far and wide over the village. Hector pointed excitedly in the distance to the large castle on the hill side.

"Senorita Morales!" he exclaimed.

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**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank-you very much for the encouragement of your reviews! As you can tell, the adventure aspect of the story is picking up but there will be a lot more romance and such to come. Also, if the brief Spanish in this is incorrect I apologize, I do not speak it at all and had to rely on lousy online sources!


	11. Chapter 11: Castle Morales

Harry felt like he might drop from exhaustion as they trekked up the long and weaving drive that cut through the hill and ascended to the castle at the top. The rain had only continued to come down with greater force; the drops were nearly painful as they were being driven into the weary boys. Their clothes were so drenched that they felt heavy, and each step was becoming an increasing struggle.

Harry was worn, but Ron was making no effort to hide his blatant exhaustion. He was panting heavily, his breath turning to long streams of white vapor in the cold, damp atmosphere. In between his obnoxious, ragged breaths he would find the energy to grumble an indistinct chain of complaints. Harry would have wacked him if he'd had the energy.

As they finally made their way to the summit they were presented with the further challenge of a magnificent set of stairs leading up to an impossibly huge set of front doors. When they reached the doors they stood there hesitant, dripping large puddles to the ground.

"Do we knock?" Ron asked, his teeth clattering from the windy chill.

Harry didn't respond, merely inspected the door. It was carved with ornate depictions of dragons swirling around as small, horrified men and women seemed to be reaching out as though trying to escape. It was hardly welcoming, but the black wood in which the carving was done looked sturdy, and more so, expensive. This castle was clearly very old and illustrious, and he wondered if Hermione had ever read about it. He would bet his Firebolt that she had.

He located a large door knocker that looked like a clawed fist, and he lifted it heavily, allowing it to fall against the door with a resounding THUD. Almost instantly, the massive doors swung open, making both boys take a quick step backwards. They were greeted on the other side by a very translucent butler.

"Mr. Potter I presume?" the ghost nodded with a haughty tone. He had impeccable posture as he stood sizing up the drenched boys hovering in the doorway.

"Yes" Harry responded, with a faint tone of surprise.

"Please enter."

"How do you know who we are?" Ron asked in a suspicious tone as they both stepped cautiously over the threshold and into the dark entry way of the castle.

"I have no idea who YOU are" the ghost drawled with a less than subtle indication of disgust. "I recognized Mr. Potter as you walked up our drive. I asked Senorita Morales if I should release the hyppogriffs on you, but she said to refrain. She is interested to speak with you."

"See that Ron" Harry said with a faint grin. "I really am famous. Even ghosts recognize me."

Ron rolled his eyes at this as the ghost led them deeper into the castle. The architecture was awe-inspiring, a castle to shame even Hogwarts with its high vaulted ceilings, intricate stain glass windows and elaborate tapestries and statues. Despite the impressive display of artwork, Harry could not help but notice a morbid theme to much of it, and he kept his wand very close as he sensed that this castle had probably been pure blood owned for many centuries, and that there was a good chance of association with the dark arts.

The ghost waved his arm before one of the doors and it swung open, revealing the first well lit room they had been in since entering the castle. There was a massive, crackling fire roaring in the hearth that pushed comforting rolls of heat in the boys' direction, alleviating the bitter cold sinking into their bones. In a plush arm chair sat a woman that was incredibly beautiful. Her black hair fell across her shoulders, and her skin was a glowing sun kissed shade. Her eyes were most enchanting; a pale blue, and her lips were plush, a seductive red. She studied them without revealing any emotion except perhaps for a faint look of sly curiosity.

"Harry Potter and friend" the ghost butler said with a deep bow to his mistress.

"I have a name yah know" Ron grumbled, but the haughty ghost seemed unconcerned, merely floating silently through the wall and disappearing. Ron stuck his tongue out at him as he left, but then turned bright red as he moved his attention back to the startling woman who was still quietly studying them. The intensity of her gaze was not lost upon the tall red head, who suddenly dropped his eyes to his shoelaces. Harry would have sworn the woman was a veela were it not for her dark complexion.

"What is your name?" she asked, her tone icy but not without a certain amount of subtle kindness. She had a rich Spanish accent, the sort that made her voice smooth, almost like purr.

"R-Ron" he stuttered, "Ronald Bilius Weasley".

"Ah yes, your exploits are quite famous Mr. Weasley" she said, her perfect lips slowly parting to reveal even, white teeth. "Although, lately all has been quiet for you both yes? No more Dark Lord to fuss over."

Ron nodded stupidly, grinning like a fool with pleasure at the fact that she had heard of him. "You are Anna Alvarez...um... Morales?"

Her eyes suddenly narrowed as if she'd been slapped and within a moment her wand was removed from her pocket and pointed dangerously at Ron, whom had instantly gone from furiously blushing to deathly pale. Harry was just as quick however, his wand evenly pointed back at her.

"How do you know me by that name?" she hissed. "What business do you have here?"

"You translated the ancient tablet, the tale of Agapios" Harry responded, speaking for the first time. "You are the only one to write about Les Maudites... at least the only one who lived."

"And what Harry Potter, you come here now to kill me for it?" Her wand was still pointing at Ron, but her eyes had shifted to look at Harry. He saw malice there, but something else that surprised him, something he wasn't used to. Fear.

"I'm not here to kill you" he said, lowering his wand. "I need to talk to you about Les Maudites."

Slowly she removed her own defensive stance, and Ron let out an audible sigh of relief. "I wrote everything I know in that silly report. It was a great risk to even write of such things I have been told."

"I have heard much the same" Harry agreed. "It was brave of you to do so."

"Brave?" she laughed. "Bravery hardly has anything to do with it. It's just plain old pride that is my downfall. As it always has been with the Morales family. A long tradition of prideful errors. I am the only person alive who can translate those runes, and it seemed a waste not to show that off."

"Have you been threatened? Who told you it was dangerous?"

"A have been informed, in various ways" she said, sounding suspicious and keeping her response cryptic. She sighed. "When you are very wealthy there is nothing to do with your time but be decadent and study useless things like ancient runes."

"The runes weren't worthless, you unveiled a very ancient mystery."

"Yes, and why are they of interest to you Mr. Potter? I must wonder. Are you power hungry? Defeating the Dark Lord just couldn't get you off?"

"Why do you call him the Dark Lord?" Ron growled, still apparently frazzled by her threat. "Are you a Death Eater?"

She walked towards him slowly, with a seductive saunter of a woman with ample confidence. Harry realized she wasn't much older than them, but he had never seen a girl their age move with such perfect grace and poise. Ron looked tense at first, like he might reach for his wand, but as she came within closer proximity he seemed to smell the luxurious fragrance of her perfume and a different expression came over him entirely.

She held her wrists up to him. "No Dark Mark" she said with a slight wink, and Ron looked like he might swoon. She smiled at her little game and walked away, once more retiring to her seat and gesturing that they sit as well. "Your Lord Voldemort was mostly a story of interest here in Spain. It never really reached our grounds, but we have had our own Lords and Ladies of Darkness. My ancestors are said to have been amongst them, but that is long passed. I am the only living descendant of House of Morales, and you have nothing to fear from me."

"You live alone in this castle?" Ron gaped.

She shrugged. "Me, the ghosts, the House Eleves, the pets."

When she said pets Harry instantly thought of the hypogriffs previously mentioned and realized with slight humor that Anna and Hagrid might have something in common. "I need to know about the underworld" Harry said, abruptly changing the topic.

"There is really nothing I can tell you. It is exactly as I wrote in the report; fuzzy details, useless allusions. What is you plan Mr. Potter?"

"Best if you don't know" he replied sternly, and again he saw it. The flicker of fear in her eyes.

"There is truly only one thing I did not mention in the report because I could not determine its significance" she admitted. "I am now sure it will help you any, but I will show you from the pictures I took. Wait here a moment, warm yourselves by the fire."

She left the room and both of the boys quickly scurried to the roaring flames. "She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen" Ron sighed.

Harry shrugged. There was only one woman he was concerned with right now, and she could be ever closer to excruciating pain as they spoke. He felt a jolt of anger with himself that it was all taking so long. But then, his rational mind reminded him that they had very little to work with, and were fortunate to have gotten as far as they had without Hermione's assistance.

There was the soft sound of agile footsteps and Anna returned with a thick notebook in hand. She dumped it on a desk, flipping through the pages. She opened to a black and white photograph of a stone tablet with illegible markings. She pointed a well-manicured finger to a particular symbol in the book.

"This symbol, it always appears whenever mention is made of the underworld. It is not a letter as far as I can tell, but perhaps some sort of insignia that relates to the location of where the entrance to the underworld exists... or perhaps it is left like a calling card."

"A calling card?" Harry asked, furrowing his brow. He leaned closer over the book, looking at the symbol which looked something like a simply sketching of a rose. When he looked back up Anna was studying him was a strange expression that made him vaguely uncomfortable.

She turned quickly, her long black hair floating out from behind her as she did so. She waved her hand over a long dining table and suddenly food appeared. Ron gasped with excitement and she nodded, as if enticing him to dig in. Ron didn't need to be told twice, greedily stuffing his face. Harry lingered however, waiting for his answer.

"Yes, a calling card" she repeated demurely. "I am the world's greatest expert in ancient runes and symbols, but I have seen nothing exactly like this. I have scoured the library trying to find a reference to it, but still nothing. And then it occurred to me... perhaps this symbol is meant to represent something very secretive. Not a place, but a group of people."

Harry frowned at this, but she continued. "When you think of the term underworld, you typically think of one of two things. There is the mythical underworld, a place where the dead were said to be sent. Call it Hades, or whatever you like. Basically, the underworld is often culturally synonymous with hell. But then there is another way we use this term. A criminal underworld or underground society.; people who operate away from the view of the public. A secret society."

"So... you think that in the story of Agapios was about an ancient wizard... who went to the criminal underworld to become immortal?"

There was a spark of excitement in her hypnotizing blue eyes. "Listen" she began, opening to a page of her report, "'after receiving the third mark of death, the wizard Agapios is said to have made contact with the underworld. There he gave his right to die in exchange for magnificent powers and immortality.' That is exactly how it was phrased in the tablet; he made CONTACT. It says nothing about descent, nothing about hell or the dead. It merely says that he traveled to the underworld, made contact, and made a deal with them."

Harry took a step back, mulling this over. "But it mentions Gods" he argued.

She rolled her eyes. "Are you a polytheist Mr. Potter? Do you really believe in a God of War and God of Sun and all that nonsense? Or is more likely, that these were very powerful magical beings, people so strong that they were GOD-LIKE?"

Harry's eyes widened. Of course it made more sense. The logic had alluded him at first, something Hermione may have laughed at him for. But now it dawned on him with perfect clarity. He wasn't looking for the opening to some ancient cave that would bring him to a fiery brimstone prison of the dead. He was looking for a very ancient order of wizards and witches, a hidden order that probably had some practical value for a commodity as rare as his will to die.

And with this realization he growled in frustration, causing the lovely Anna to take a step away from him. "This is just as impossible as when I started. How am I supposed to find a group of people that don't want to be found? Why couldn't the old man just have told me where they are?"

"I don't know who the old man is" she responded in a flat tone. "But maybe he doesn't know himself."

"Damnit, you're right!" Harry nearly laughed at the absurdity of it all. The Underworld was so secretive that even a 2,000 year old Damned One knew not of their whereabouts. That's why he had given Harry little to no information. He had thrown Harry to the wolves with the blind hope that in his panic to save Hermione he would figure it out on his own.

And with this realization Harry fell to his knees on the floor. He would never find them in time.

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Hermione woke for what was only the second time since Harry had left, and a sense of dark dread filled her as she stared up at the vaulted ceilings and wondered if this would be the last thing she would ever see. She could immediately sense that he had not come back yet, and she would have cried but found no energy for tears. She wanted to see his face, wanted him near her. He had always been the best at making her feel better, and even if there was no cure his presence would make is less difficult.

The stiffness in her joints had begun to increase to a throbbing pain, and while it was just bearable she knew she was running short on time until it escalated to something far worse. As it was she could barely move her hands, and her own weakness scared her greatly. She needed him there to comfort her but she also needed to see his face to know he was okay.

There was the sound of someone approaching her bed and she managed to crane her neck just far enough to see Ginny Weasley pass through the sheer white curtains that Madam Pomfrey had constructed to give Hermione some privacy. Ginny's eyes widened at seeing that Hermione was awake, and then she greeted her with a sad, small smile.

"I've been here most of the time, but you've been sleeping" Ginny said softly, sitting at Hermione's bed side.

"Thank-you" Hermione said softly.

Ginny tucked a piece of hair behind her ear nervously, shifting uncomfortably in her seat as she studied her deathly ill friend. "Harry wrote me a note before he left Hogwarts letting me know that you had been cursed. He didn't tell me much else except that he needed to go fix it."

"It's probably best you know as little as possible" Hermione responded, her own voice so weary that it shocked her. She vaguely noticed the hurt in Ginny's eyes at these words, so she clarified. "I just mean that it's very dangerous what's going on, as you can see. I don't want anyone else getting hurt."

"Do you think Harry can cure you?"

"I don't know" Hermione sighed. "I don't want him to. The cost will be very great if he does."

"Well, what other option is there?" Ginny asked desperately. She wished she could be of more help. She considered Hermione to be a dear friend, but even more so she respected Hermione greatly. She had always been so poised, logical and intelligent. She conducted herself with a certain calm, intellectual confidence that Ginny envied. She had never known anyone like Hermione Granger, and seeing her reduced to such a frail state was painful and difficult.

Hermione took her time answering Ginny's question because she knew she would have to phrase what she was about to explain very carefully. "Ginny, there is no way to reverse this curse. Harry thinks he has a plan... but it may not work. It many ways, I pray it will not work. The curse is only barely being held off by these charms, but when they fade the pain I experience will be terrible. It will not kill me, but put me in a constant state of torment. This is why I need to ask something of you, something I would not ask if I did not absolutely have to. If the pain becomes too great, and Harry is not back, I need to help me die."

Ginny stood up from her chair in horror of what the brown haired girl had just said to her. This was Hermione Granger, the head strong girl who never gave up fighting and had tremendous courage in the face of any battle. How could she make such a request?

"I- I can't, I couldn't" Ginny stuttered, her eyes pleading with Hermione to take it back.

Hermione knew her words were causing Ginny great distress, but there was nobody else to turn to. She knew Ron was probably with Harry now, and even if he had been there he would never have been able to do it. But Ginny was different. She had a certain strength and dignity that perhaps she had taken from her mother, or perhaps from surviving the horrors of Tom Riddle's diary. Either way, Ginny could muster certain things that many could not.

"Ginny, if you don't I will be subjected to horrible things, and I know you would not want that for me. I know what I'm asking you is a terrible thing, but you must promise me."

Ginny wanted to just run away from the whole issue, but she knew that would not solve the conflict at hand. She could not idly sit by and watch her friend be tortured. Tears suddenly flowed freely down her face, and she carefully took Hermione's hand in hers. "I promise that if it comes to that, I will help you with what needs to be done. But it won't come to that. Harry will sort this out, he always does. Like when he saved me from the Chamber of Secrets; he always comes through in the end. And Hermione, he loves you so much. He has always admired you greatly, I don't think any other girl could compare to the pride he felt in knowing you. I always thought it was a brotherly love and affection, but the way he looked at you at the Yule Ball... it's a sort of passion that could make other people jealous. So I know he'll save you. I just know it."

By the time Ginny finished Hermione had already lapsed back into sleep, but she sat there still, hoping that she was right.

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Harry and Ron had been invited as guests of the castle to spend the night, which was good because they were weary and without direction. While Harry felt wrong to be sleeping when time was so short, he was also feeling a very new sensation. Hopelessness.

He had taken a hot shower that seemed to restore some feeling to his tired limbs, and a house elf had brought along a change of clothes. It wasn't a style Harry was quite used to, very high end designing he would guess from his limited knowledge. He dressed in a black button up that had an almost silky fine quality, and the black pants the elf had brought fit him impeccably well with a silver belt buckle. When all was done he thought he looked a bit like a Slytherin, but it beat the soaking clothes he had hung by the fire of the bedroom he was staying. He hadn't been able to eat earlier, so the house elf had also brought him a platter of food which he now found his way to picking at as he sat moodily staring into the flames.

He heard the door to his chambers creep open and he turned to see Anna enter. She was wearing a white night gown that was very figure flattering and had he been in a more distractible mood it may have been hard to turn away, but he moved his eyes back to the fire, tearing a piece of meat from his plate in a vacant gesture.

"Thank you for letting us stay."

"It's the least I could do. I wish I could have been more helpful to you."

"You have been very helpful."

"Why is it so important to you that you find the Underworld?" she asked, and he sensed she had moved very close behind him.

"The life of someone I love depends on it" he answered simply.

"Ah. I did not think it was a matter of power. A matter of a girl then?"

"Yes."

"She must be very special for all this effort."

"She is."

Anna moved from the back of his chair, passing him so closely that her arm very faintly brushed his shoulder. She sat gracefully in the other arm chair, but he could feel her peculiar blue eyes still fixed intensely upon him. "When my butler saw you walking up our drive I hardly believed him. But he is never mistaken. So I was quite intrigued to meet you. The castle is very lonely and you are very handsome." She paused for a moment and he realized with faint alarm that she was possibly attempting to seduce him. But then she continued, "you are very different than I would have imagined."

"How so?"

"I thought maybe you would be more... conceited. You are always in the papers, even here in Spain. The Boy Who Lived, the youngest seeker in over a century at Hogwarts, a Triwizard Champion, destroyer of the Dark Lord. And it is said you were wealthy, although, I doubt as wealthy as myself." She smiled slightly, pausing. "But despite all that you have this quiet intensity, a humility that is peculiar to me."

"That's because almost none of the things they celebrate about me were enjoyable. My parents died so I could live, leaving me orphaned with my terrible Aunt and Uncle. So you might say being the Boy Who Lived is a bitter reminder of what was lost. And then I never chose to be a Triwizard Champion. I had to see Cedric Diggory be killed after all that. And killing Voldemort... it's not something I discuss often. It wasn't as joyous a moment as the papers might lead you to believe. Nearly everyone I have ever loved was dead before the final battle, and many of those left died during the battle."

"Then we are alike in some way then Harry Potter. But you carry the world on your shoulders and that is not something I envy you for. Still, I admire you now for having met you, and I wish you luck. Part of me wishes we could have met under different circumstances."

There was a slight longing in her eyes but Harry simply smiled kindly at her and she bid him goodnight. He went back to his brooding thoughts, and of a girl far away who had his heart. If he would have to become cold and relentless he would do so if it meant saving her. He decided with great resolve that tomorrow would lead him in the right direction, no matter what it took. And that resolve finally allowed him a fleeting moment of rest.

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_He dreamed of the most ordinary moment in the world. He dreamed of being in the library with her, and watching her scold him for not doing his homework as he laughed about her motherly concern. He dreamed of the look on her face as she finally forgave him, allowing his laughter to infectiously reach her cinnamon brown eyes and he dreamed about the look of love there._

_And then he dreamed of her sleeping beside him, the smooth feeling of her leg against his under the soft sheets, the calm, even motions of her breathing letting him know she was alive and healthy. He dreamed of the hot urgency of her kisses, of the tight grip of her embrace as though she would never let him go._

He woke suddenly to the strange surroundings of Castle Morales, the fire still warmly lighting up the room. The large bed he slept in was infinitely comfortable, with impossibly soft white sheets and plush pillows. But it was not the same without her there, and so he sat up in the shadowy room, watching the way the flickering flames danced upon the stone walls.

_Harry Potter _whispered a voice.

He sat up quickly, trying to determine where it was coming from. It had been so faint, almost impossible to hear. _Harry Potter_it whispered once more. He rose from his bed and walked to the window, pushing back the dark, heavy drapes and looking out onto a moonlit garden.

_Harry Potter, why do you seek us?_

He opened the window, a cold blast of air hitting his bare chest. He realized that the voice was not a single voice, but many being carried on the wind. _Why do you seek the Underworld? What have you to say to the Gods?_

He sucked in a deep breath, feeling the frigid air sink shockingly into his chest. "I have something for you." He paused for a moment, feeling uncertain of himself as he spoke boldly into the empty night. And then he thought of her again, and found his confidence. "I am willing to give you my right to die. I want to become a Damned One."

_Good _they whispered. _Then come now._

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_**_AUTHOR'S NOTE: A slightly shorter chapter this time, but it seemed like a good spot to end. Hope you enjoy, and thank you for the reviews, they are one of the highlights of my day!_  
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	12. Chapter 12: The Underworld

"Well my God, just what the hell am I supposed to do?

So I ran off and ran on to something, that I swore was everything but beautiful

I only say that word for you."—Manchester Orchestra

_Come now._

With those final words the voices subsided, and Harry was left hanging out the window, the cold breeze pressing against him. A sudden image flashed in his mind, and he could distinctly see tall, straight columns of a coliseum rising up in the night sky. It was a place where he was meant to go, and the image had embedded on him the exact knowledge of how to get there.

Not that knowing where it was made it easy to access. Just as he knew where he must go, he also knew that he would have to be tested to prove his will to get there. He would be challenged and that irritated him, but he also logically knew it was not time to fight with that which he could not change.

He closed the window and retrieved the shirt that Anna had given him, deciding that the black was fitting for the overall somber essence of the occasion. His old clothes were nearly dry so he carefully packed them in his bag, slung it over his shoulder and was about to go tell Ron where he was headed when he stopped. He knew that Ron could not come with him any further, but he also realized that Ron might not understand that. As Harry stood there, considering Ron's fierce loyalty he suddenly felt a bit lighter and less alone.

He found a quill and ink pot in his chambers, and jotted Ron a quick note on a piece of parchment.

_Ron-_

_I know where I need to go now. I am sorry to leave you here so abruptly, but where I am headed I must go alone. Use the floo network here in the castle so you won't be delayed in getting back to Hermione. Tell her to hold on, I am doing what I must and it will all be over soon._

_Thank-you for coming all this way with me._

_-Harry_

He left the note where he knew Ron would find it and then he took one last look around the room where he was staying, mounted his broomstick, and flew off into the night air. He felt a cold rush of exhilaration as he ascended to the stars, and wondered if flying would hold the same joy for him after this was all over with. It had always brought him peace, a sense of balance and satisfaction. Somehow, flying had felt natural to him from the day he had caught Neville Longbottom's remembrall. He sailed up into the clouds where the moon's light was even more brilliant and he tried to relax as he traveled.

He tried to fixate his mind not on the struggle ahead, but on how worth it it would all be to have her with him again. That set his mind nearly to a sort of tranquility as he flew. Life had never been easy for him. How could he expect it to be any different now?

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She woke up in a confused blur of panic. The room was so dark and instead of feeling fiery hot as she had the past couple days, she now felt terrifyingly cold. She felt as if her bones themselves had turned to ice and she trembled heavily under the thin sheets of her bed. She could hardly see, it was so very dark around her, and she wondered if it was night time or if it was her vision fading. She tried to focus on the blue light hovering above her, but it was growing dim now. Her time was running short.

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Harry touched down in a grassy field just as the sun was rising. His heart told him this is where he must land, even though there was nothing to indicate that this was a place different than any other. He began to walk then, watching as the colors of the sun slowly changed the sky. He could tell it would be a beautiful day, and that seemed strange but he was glad it wasn't raining this time.

The grass was tall and brushed against his legs as he made his way to the edge of the field, wand drawn. Slowly he approached a thick forest, and as he stepped into the trees he was plunged into darkness. _Lumos _he whispered.

As he walked he was set on edge by the pervasive silence that seemed to close in on him. Never had he felt quite so alone, even as a little boy locked in a broom closet. It was almost a desperate feeling of loneliness and it made him want to turn away, but he pushed on. Usually in times of danger he had Ron or Hermione, or both by his side. Now it was just him, and for the first time self-doubt filled him. He wouldn't have survived half of their adventures without his friends, what made this any different?

He took a long calming breath, and tried to push these negative thoughts from his mind. Still they lingered like a stinging wound as he made his way further into the darkness. He wished suddenly, that he had kept the Elder Wand. He had gotten rid of it because he didn't want to be corrupted by it's power. Yet now he was about to be given more power than any single person should have the right to control. Life was unrelenting.

From the darkness a massive shadow rose up behind the trees. The light of his wand was weak, but as he drew closer he realized he was looking at the mouth of a massive cave. _So it is literally an underground underworld_he thought. He wondered if the entrance always changed, and he would bet that it did. The entrance to the Underworld was probably never the same twice, and it would probably close up as soon as he entered. That would be why the old man couldn't tell him where to go.

He held his wand high as he peered into the gaping mouth of the cave. He carefully studied the entrance, preparing his nerves for what might come ahead. The last cave he had been in was the terrible horocrux experience with Dumbledore. He doubted this would be any more pleasant. He noticed that the same symbol Anna had shown him was carved into the front of the cave, and there could be no doubt he was meant to go inside.

He walked quickly into the darkness, keeping the light low to make sure he did not trip or fall. Inside was somehow even quieter than the forest he had just left, the sort of silence that seemed to press in on him and make his ears hurt. He could only hear the steady sound of his feet hitting the stone below, and the rapid beating of his heart. He suddenly found himself humming the Hogwarts school song lightly to break apart the silence, and it echoed eerily through the vast cave. He wondered how high the ceilings were, but he decided it was best not to look.

Eventually he could tell that the ground was sloping downwards, and he was descending. He remembered once having read the story of Orpheus who had traveled to the underworld to save his love from Hades. He had always envisioned the entrance to the underworld being much like this one, and he felt something of a similarity to the tale as he went further and further into the ground, feeling the pressure change ring in his ears and a damp cold wash over him.

The cavern was becoming increasingly narrow, he could tell by the reduced echo of his humming and he could sense the walls growing closer to him. Small puddles had begun to accumulate on the ground, and he could feel chilling water sink through his shoes.

As he turned the corner he drew back quickly. He had nearly stepped into a large pit of snakes, their coiled bodies writhing over each other on the cavern floor. They reared up suddenly, altered to his presence and hissed angrily, showing their gleaming teeth through the dark. _There must be hundreds of them, possibly thousands _he realized in dismay.

"Kill the intruder" they hissed in unison.

"Don't kill me" Harry ordered, boldly finding his voice.

The snakes continued to slither towards him, but he held him ground bravely. His hand trembled only slightly as the closest of the reptiles stopped within an arm's length of his legs.

"Don't kill me" he ordered again. "I have been invited here. I bring an important gift."

"You can hear us?" they questioned, rearing up once more but this time not in attack. Harry might have said they actually looked curious.

"Yes, I am a parseltongue" Harry explained, trying not the shudder at the sight of so many snakes surrounding him.

"We have never heard this term. The only humans we have ever spoken to are the Gods. We will let you on your way."

"Thanks" Harry said lamely, and walked through the narrow path they allowed him, their coiled bodies flanking him on either side. As he crossed through the sea of fanged creatures he could not help himself but suddenly smirk. _I bet that the so-called Gods did not count on this. Snakes are not much of challenge for a parseltongue._

As he continued his descent, he hoped that the rest of the challenges would be so simple. But he highly doubted it.

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For the first time in days Hermione had been awake for a sustained amount of time. And this worried her, because it meant the stability charm was finally losing the fight. She could feel the weakness in her body, and now she was receiving shooting pains that would have made her cry out if she could find the energy. She had opened the locket Harry had given her for Christmas, and through her fading vision she could barely see it, she could make out the images of her parents sleeping peacefully. She missed them, and yet she was also glad that they would not feel the pain of her loss.

Although it was still very early morning, someone entered the medical ward. She could hear the heavy doors swing open and footsteps approach her. She wished with every fiber of her being that it would be Harry's face to greet her when the curtains parted, but even in her weakened state she knew the sound of his footsteps. He always walked at a brisk pace, his movements almost graceful as he had always been sure footed and balanced. It was not Harry coming to see her.

Ginny Weasley looked shocked to see Hermione awake. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here, I needed badly to take a shower and I fell asleep for just..." she had reached out to touch Hermione's hand but quickly retracted it as if having been burned. "My God! You're freezing!"

She quickly ran to gather blankets from the trunk at the foot of the hospital bed. She covered her friend quickly, and Hermione could feel the Ginny was shaking. The younger girl was terribly scared, and Hermione wished she wasn't subjecting Ginny to such a difficult situation. She vaguely heard her say, "I'm going to get Madam Pomfrey" and then everything faded to complete blackness.

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As Harry walked he suddenly seemed to be entering a bank of fog, which seemed peculiar since he was so far underground. It thickened as he moved forward and despite the light it grew so dense that he had no idea of what was in front of him or around him. He held his arms out to guide the way, feeling blindly in the grey nothingness.

Under his feet the puddles were growing thicker until they were up past his ankles and fully filling his shoes. When the water was up to his knees he decided he might need to remove his shoes entirely as they were getting heavy and slowing him down. The fog was so thick that he realized he could not even see his own feet, so the struggle of removing his shoes and socks was a bit frustrating, and when it was finally done he shoved them hastily into his bag and continued on, the cold water even more shocking now that the soles of his feet were touching the frigid rock beneath.

As he continued on the water level rose to his waist, and it was at that point that he had a dreadful feeling that he would have to swim. It wasn't that he wasn't a decent swimmer, but more so the fact that he could not see where he was going. Could he end up swimming until exhaustion dragged him under only to never reach a shore?

He had the sudden idea that perhaps he could fly. He pulled his Firebolt from the bag and mounted it, but to his great dismay it did not lift him in the air as usual, but simply floated atop the water like a useless piece of limber. He smashed his fist angrily through the fog and returned the broom to his bag. He wondered if the passageways were enchanted against flying.

"WHAT'S THE POINT!" he shouted to nobody, and his voice echoed loudly back through the fog. He realized that wherever he was now, it was a very large cavern.

With a few more steps that water was at his chest, and so he began to swim. The cold water spilled over his head and he felt suddenly awake. He tried to swim as straight as possible, hoping that this was simply an underwater pond he was crossing. His clothes and the bag dangling from him slowed down his process, and at first he dealt with it, but then he realized that he was sinking. And so without any other option he dropped the bag and all its contents down into the water, trying to remember that they were simply possessions and nothing more.

Able to move more freely he was able to take nice even strokes, but before long his heart was hammering with exhaustion against his ribs. He couldn't help but think about the times he had heard how difficult it is to swim in a straight line, how those crossing the British Channel needed to follow a boat from going crooked, and he felt a slight swelling of panic. What if he was going the wrong way? Hell, what if he was going in circles?

As he had these thoughts he suddenly grew heavier, and her found his arm muscles screaming as he attempted to pull himself forward. He had become so heavy he wasn't sure if he was actually making any forward progress, or if he was just flailing to stay afloat. Exhausted he flipped to his back, and despite this new position he could barely stay afloat, taking huge, dragging breaths of air in as he tread water. Slowly he regained some energy, and damned if he didn't feel lighter.

As he swam on he suddenly felt something brush his leg against his pants. _Is there something in the water? _He thought frantically, thinking of grindylows. But this time he had neither gillyweed to stay under and fight, nor light to see his attackers. The idea of their long fingers wrapping around his legs gave him a jolt, and he swam faster. Ever worse was the thought of the creatures he had seen in the water with Dumbledore.

As his heart grew frantic at these thoughts he found himself growing much heavier again, and he tried to stay afloat, but between the exhaustion of his arms and the burning of his lungs he was losing the battle, and slowly he sank into the pitch black water. He felt the air go from his lungs in large bubbles that rose from his body to the surface, and further and further down he went.

He felt his heart grow heavy, like a rock bringing him to the bottom of his watery grave. _So this is how it ends_ he thought, his body convulsing for need of oxygen. _After all I've been through; I will die in a water filled cavern where nobody will ever find my remains._

And there was nothing positive he could possibly think about any of that. He could feel ripping pain now, as his lungs screamed for air, but he wasn't quite ready to let his mouth open and the water rush in. He knew he only had moments left to live, and he wanted to think of something happy. Something positive. He imagined Hermione, and the realization he had failed her did not help ease his transition into death. He wondered if he would see her in the afterlife. He was still scared to die. Scared because he was tormented over everything he had yet to experience, all the adventures and love life had promised him and then ripped away.

And with these final thoughts, he suddenly felt anger. Anger that he could not have his goal, anger that he could not keep her. _Just one person. I just wanted to keep one person I loved. _And he realized that the trembling in his body wasn't the need for air, it was complete rage. Suddenly, as though a weight had been lifted from him, he began to rise rapidly up to the surface where he shot up into the air once more.

He choked for breath, treading in the water with a renewed energy. He realized that it had been his doubt that kept weighing him done. If he was ever going to reach the other side, it would be with resolve. After he had regained his breath he returned to his swim, taking long steady strokes.

Eventually he felt his fingertips gently graze stone, and he realized it was now shallow enough to stand. As he rose dripping to his feet the heavy fog parted and much to his relief he was only 10 meters from the shore, a faint glowing light guiding his way. He half ran from the water, and fell heavily on the rocks, never so thankful for the ability to breathe freely. He conjured a spell to dry his clothes and then resumed his way barefooted towards the light, clutching his wand with grim determination.

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Hermione was vaguely aware of Madam Pomfrey moving around her. She could somewhat feel the steady grasp of Ginny's hand on her own. But only barely. Mostly she was in a whole other dimension of pain and disorientation. The coldness in her body seemed to have irradiated from her bones with a sensation of frosty burning out of her skin. _Is it possible to feel pain in each organ individually? _She wondered, but whether it was mental or physical feel it she could, as if frost bite was growing across her heart and lungs, making it nearly impossible to breathe. She had felt the cruciatus curse, but this was worse in many ways. It was slower and more deliberate. It played with her head and made her relive terrible events once more. And she knew she hadn't completely subsided into it yet. Only a few more hours and the full effects would undoubtedly drive her insane. She would be like Neville's parents, only the pain would never stop for her.

"I need to fetch someone from St. Mungos" she heard, and the voice echoed in a strange way against her waking nightmares. Leaving her parents. Being tortured. Watching Hagrid carry Harry's body.

"I'll watch her" said Ginny's voice as Hermione watched her own smiling face disappear from her parents' memory.

"Try your best to keep her warm" came the distant reply as Hermione saw Bellatrix Lestrange's laughing face float before her eyes.

Hermione felt Ginny's hand leave hers as the girl softly muttered warming spells, but Hermione could not feel their effect. She could only see Harry's body in Hagrid's arms. Limp. Lifeless. Pale. She could feel hope drain from her.

"Stay strong" she heard Ginny beckon from far away. "You are the strongest witch I know. Harry will be here soon. I just know it."

Hermione felt a strong shock of pain course through her body, a convulsion like being crushed. _Harry's already dead_.

As Harry walked he knew there was likely to be one final challenge. Wizards seemed to greatly prefer things to come in sets of threes. It was obnoxious but true.

As he turned the corner, he was greatly surprised to have stepped onto a hill side. Somehow he was outside again, but it was perplexing because he had undoubtedly been traveling deeper underground the entire time. Furthermore, wherever he was it was nighttime. Still, there he was standing in thick, cool grass, and far above were magnificent stars, more than he had ever seen before. A warm gentle breeze seemed to invite him to walk on, and as he did he approached the edge of a cliff. Far below he could see the coliseum he had been given a vision of. It looked small from where he stood, but he could make out the marble columns and the orange light of flickering torches.

He had made it.

He turned to walk from the cliff's edge to find a way down, and came face to face with a heartbreaking familiar set of eyes. Green like his own, filled with both sorrow and beauty. He reached out a trembling hand, but it went right through her.

"Mom?" he whispered.

"Harry, what are you doing here?"

"This isn't... this isn't the real afterlife. I've seen it."

"Oh Harry" she sighed sadly. "Would you really do this to us? We've been waiting for you." And just as she said this, his father appeared behind her, his hand firmly on her shoulder.

"Son, this isn't the right path for you. We've been waiting to be rejoined with you for so long. Would you make us wait for thousands of years?"

"What will be left of our souls by then?" asked another familiar voice. Sirius had appeared.

"Harry, I told you once that death is but the next great adventure. Why would you go through such lengths to avoid what is only natural? Tom Riddle did the same you know" said Dumbledore, who watched Harry with his doleful blue eyes.

Harry felt tears silently trickling down his cheek. He had seen these ghosts before, and the pull to stay with them had been so magnetic, so comforting. Some part of him knew death was not a thing to be feared, but another part of him knew it hadn't been his time. "If I don't do this, I will lose her" Harry said through trembling lips, wishing he could feel the comfort of his mother's embrace or the security of his father's hand on his shoulder.

"You already have" said a small voice, and the ghosts parted to reveal the one ghost he could not stand to see. She stood there dressed in the same gown she had to the winter ball. She looked just as beautiful as she had that night, her brown eyes fixed only on him. But now she was translucent, a thinned version of her former brilliance, a watered down image hovering there, untouchable.

"You were too late Harry" Hermione whispered to him.


	13. Chapter 13: Ascending

"You were too late."

The words froze his heart as he heard them spill from her mouth. He didn't want to believe it; he wanted to make her take it back. But what was she doing here with the rest of the dead? The pain must have become too great; she must have suffered so horribly death was the only release. He had failed, and words eluded him as he slowly staggered towards her ghost, his family watching with great pity, his mother ineffectually reaching out to comfort him, her hand passing through his shoulder with a cold, tingling sensation.

He wished he could hold her in his arms, he wanted to feel the warmth of her life against him but it was vanished now. He wanted to press his lips against hers and feel the comfort of her kiss, or bury his face in her hair and inhale that sweet, familiar smell. But he knew he couldn't. He tried to look into her eyes, but he found himself dismayed by the fact that he was looking through her now, so he turned away with great effort. He found himself looking out over the edge of the cliff again.

_If I jumped, I could be with them. This could all end; my war would finally be over. Evil would be something for the rest of the world to deal with. I could be with everyone I love. I could finally have a lasting sense of peace._

He walked towards the edge of the cliff, and looked far down below. It was certainly enough distance to break his bones, enough distance to end his life. He felt the warm breeze caress his face and wind whisper through his hair. Would he be able to feel these sensations in the afterlife?

He took a deep breath, perhaps his last. He was about to confront the last mystery to life. He would confront death for the final time.

"No" he said suddenly, whirling back towards the ghosts. "Something is not right."

"What's wrong Harry?" Lilly asked, her eyes almost pleading.

"I don't know... but I don't think you're real. This is not what I saw when I died fighting Voldemort. This feels... strange. It feels wrong."

"Son, this is your time now. Don't make the wrong decision" James Potter argued, but Harry was growing more sure now. This was not his father, or his mother or Godfather or Headmaster. These were just visions, and nothing more.

"You're still alive" he said to Hermione's ghost. "I feel it."

"Harry-" she began, but he ignored her, walking through the ghosts without another moment's pause and heading down the sloping hill towards the coliseum. He did not turn back for fear that his will would weaken. _They aren't real_ he assured himself. _They are visions of my own imagination, a final test to prove my will._

As he walked on he hoped he was right.

As he drew closer to the coliseum it rose up above him magnificently, the ivory white columns becoming more prominent against the clear night sky. It was the sort of ancient architecture that had mostly fallen to ruin on Earth. This was pristine in its design and breath taking in its enormity. The roaring flames of the torches attached to each column created a brilliant path, guiding him along.

He stepped across the threshold and entered the structure. The light surrounding it had been so bright he could not see within, and it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the strange sight before him. Ten men and women sat in a semi-circle of thrones to greet him. As he looked at them he quickly noticed that they all conveyed a sense of beauty and strength. In most respects, they appeared to closely resemble the paintings and statues he had seen of Greek Gods and Goddesses. However, instead of being dressed in togas they were comfortably clothed in more modern style, though the material of their clothing was still clearly expensive and elaborate.

He walked towards the center of them and felt humbled by the sheer power that he could feel from their presence. He did not bow to them, but he found himself unable to speak as he felt the eyes of the ten coolly study him like a specimen.

"We are glad you passed the tests Harry Potter" said the soothing voice of a woman, and Harry looked up to meet eyes with a light haired beauty. She looked to be not ten years older than himself, but he could sense she was far older than her appearances told. Her skin was nearly golden and she wore a bright red dress that was as shocking in its seductive nature as it was flattering to her perfectly sculpted figure.

"You have been marked by death in the three most important ways" said a voice that somehow reminded him of Snape. The voice same from a thin dark haired man clothed in black wizard robes. His skin was so fair he was nearly translucent and from his white skin his black eyes stood out starkly.

"You have come to sacrifice your right to die" boomed a third, powerful voice of a well-muscled man with a tidy white beard. He stated it as a fact, not as a question.

Harry managed to find his voice in his presence. "Yes, I have come to give you my right to die in exchange for power and immortal life."

"You will provide us with a strong source of power to replace this one" announced the bearded man, holding out an amulet that glowed from a chain around his neck. Harry gazed into the white light of the amulet and knew it held trapped the old man's right to die, it held his mortality.

"You will release that once I have given you what you want?" Harry asked.

"Yes" nodded the bearded man. "Its power has begun to fade somewhat with time. We are glad he found a suitable replacement for us."

Harry felt himself bristle at the words _replacement. _As through giving up a piece of his soul was nothing more than exchanging an old watch or buying a new piece of furniture. "Who are you?" Harry asked, his voice not hiding the ire in it.

"We are Gods" the fair haired woman replied.

"No" Harry insisted stubbornly. "Who are you really?"

There was a moment of pause before the bearded man responded once more in his deep voice. "You may call me Zeus, her Aphrodite and him Hades, but it hardly matters what you call us. We are and we are not Gods. Thousands of years ago we were mortal like you. Wizards and witches who gathered together with the singular goal of gaining great power and defeating death. We devised a spell that would allow us to live forever and give us tremendous power over all things. So you might say that we are Gods in that respect."

"And that spell hinges on collecting the mortality of one who has been marked by death in the three ways doesn't it?" Harry guessed. "You are powerless without a Damned One."

At these words Harry saw a spark of fury in the eyes of the one who called himself Zeus. But just as surely as it had appeared it subsided. "I don't know why the term 'Les Maudites' had to come about. We allow you to share in some of our power, in some of our immortality. That is a gift, not a curse."

"It's only a gift to those who've forgotten how to be human" Harry spat angrily. "You sit on your thrones with all this pomp and circumstance, and you could change the whole world with little effort. You could vanquish evil, restore peace, but instead you choose to be lazy and decadent. You care of nothing but yourselves. You are just like the ancient Greek Gods... petty, foolish and self-absorbed."

"YOU WILL NOT SPEAK TO US IN THIS MANNER!" Zeus boomed with such great force Harry nearly fell backwards. Zeus pointed a well-muscled arm in Harry's direction, but Aphrodite touched a caring hand to his wrist and he let it fall back to his side.

"He is just a silly mortal" the blond woman said, and there was something like poison in her voice now. "He doesn't know what he speaks of. You see boy, the trials of man no longer concern us. We have moved above all that. We are at an elevated sense of reality."

"You play with lives for fun" Harry growled.

She smiled, her light pink lips revealing white teeth that seemed to glisten in the light like venomous fangs. "When you have lived for so long, your amusements may change. You will see Harry Potter. Just wait."

"I'll never be like you" he insisted. "But go ahead, I give you my mortality. It is yours to take." As he said these words he shifted his eyes to Zeus with a challenging glare. And then, for just a moment he saw a strange expression cross the bearded man's face. _Surprise._

It vanished in a flash, and the large man rose from his throne and approached Harry, arm extended and chanting in a strange language. The others all rose as well and they were surrounding him, arms out, chanting in unison. They closed in around him; closer and closer until they were touching him with their outstretched hands and it felt like electric currents were passing through is body. It wasn't entirely painful but it was unlike anything he had ever experienced.

And then he felt a strange ache in his heart, like something was being torn from his chest and he tried not to cry out but he soon heard his own screaming as he saw a brilliant light come from the center of his body and there was the sensation of ripping within his rib cage. The light hovered in midair for a moment and then flew to the amulet hanging from Zeus' neck. The light that had been trapped previously flew away with great speed, and then it was only Harry's mortality left dangling from the Zeus' thick neck.

Harry collapsed to his knees as the self-proclaimed deities resumed their seats. He could still feel the electricity of their enchantment flowing through his body, and as he looked up everything seemed _changed. _The bright light of the torches seemed to be a part of himself, something he could cause to grow or extinguish with a thought. The magic he had once felt course through his wand now resonated in every cell of his body.

_What have I become? _He thought desperately.

_You are like the great tales of men such as Odysseus, Achilles or Perseus. You have been given great strength by the Gods. _They whispered in his mind.

He rose to his feet and looked at each of their faces. Then his eyes settled resolutely on Zeus, and this time the bearded man's look of surprise was unmistakable. _You have abused your powers and become inhuman corruptions of nature_ Harry heard himself responding silently. _I will come for you all. I will end this._

They laughed at his foolishness but he barely heard it as he had apparated suddenly from their presence. He did not care about their laughter. He would have the final laugh in the end.

' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' '' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' '' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' '

Ginny's body was leaning over Hermione as though she could physically shield her now from what had happened. She was crying in a way that shook her entire body, the sort of crying she had been unable to do even for her own brother. They were the only two bodies in the darkened room, outside heavy clouds blocked out the sun and cast a black shadow on the room and threatened a fierce storm.

Harry saw all this as he appeared soundlessly in the hospital ward and his heart froze. Apparating onto Hogwarts grounds was said to be impossible due to the strong wards, but it did not seem to be a problem for Harry now. The blue stability orb that had been brightly lit above Hermione's bed had disappeared entirely. _I am too late_ he thought with such devastation that his knees gave out and all color ran from his face. _She came to me and told me but I was too stubborn to listen. And now I will never be with her again._

Ginny's heavy sobs echoed through the empty room, but Harry could not cry. He wondered distantly in a dizzy way if being a Damned One meant he was now incapable of tears. Or maybe his heart was just gone now that she was dead. Hadn't she always been his heart?

He felt his body shaking with rage at the unfairness of it all. Where he had initially felt utter hopelessness for the first time in his life, he was now filled with a dark anger. He could feel the ground beneath him shake as well, and he vaguely realized the destructive power of his mood but hardly cared.

Feeling the sudden Earth quake beneath her feet Ginny's tear streaked face looked up and saw Harry there. Her brown eyes widened with shock at the sight of the raven haired boy, dressed all in black kneeling shoeless on the stone floor. "Harry?" she gasped.

He looked at her through hard eyes. "Did you kill her Ginny?" and the hostility in the question shocked even him. He felt the shaking stop as he observed the pained look in her eyes, the fear, the panic. "I'm sorry, I'm sure she was in a great deal of pain."

Ginny finally found her voice. "She IS in a great deal of pain Harry. If you can help her, you must hurry."

"She's alive?" he exclaimed, and then finally there were tears. He ran to her side and realized that she was actually breathing. In fact, now that his mind wasn't so clouded he could _feel _the life in her. And with his new powers he could also feel a touch of the pain she was experiencing and it was terrible.

"She seems to be awake because she moves and sometimes her eyes are open, and she screams... but she's somewhere else entirely. I'm not even sure she can hear me anymore. Madam Pomfrey went..."

But Ginny's words had faded out of Harry's ears. He fixed his eyes on her face, and he focused intensely. He placed his hands on her shoulders with the light tenderness that only lovers can accomplish. He felt himself lift the pain from her, and the curse slowly rose from her body like a black cloud.

Ginny moved back as she watched this happen, not sure what her eyes were seeing. And then Hermione took a long, audible breath, as though she hadn't inhaled in a very long time, and the darkness around her dissipated.

_She had been in a place close to complete hopelessness. It was pitch black everywhere she looked, but still she could FEEL the pain crushing down on her like heavy wave, and the desperation of not knowing how to escape, which direction to head, and all the while the assault of unbearable memories that seemed to eat at her even worse than the pain._

_As hope continued to fade from her the pain only increased, and she began to realize she would soon cross a line from where her sanity could never be restored. She tried to find strength, to envision what Harry would say to her but instead there was just the lonely echo of _he's dead, he's dead, he's dead.

_And she began to forget things, like how his voice sounded, how he smelled, how it felt to have him nearby. She had nearly forgotten his face when suddenly color came rushing back into her dark world. And she saw emerald green eyes._

She blinked at him, the pain completely gone now, her strength renewed. She was looking right into his eyes, those familiar eyes that she had always been able to read with ease. But something was different now. He looked changed in some way, and in an instant she knew what he had done.

"Oh Harry" she said softly, tears springing into her eyes. "I didn't want this for you."

For a moment he didn't respond, simply burying his face against her, his body covering hers. A tear had escaped her brown eyes and was trickling smoothly down her cheek and as he moved back from her he wiped it away. The touch of his finger against her skin, while brief, felt so comforting that she knew despite what he had done he was still her Harry. Still the scruffy, raven haired boy who had chased down a mountain troll when they were first years, the same boy who was brave and confident, but also lonely and insecure in a quiet way, still the one who had surprised her with his confession of love, had set her on fire with the passion behind each kiss and could make her feel safe and unsafe at the safe time in a dizzying, intoxicating experience.

As she realized all this she sat up quickly from the bed where she had been laying and wrapped her arms fiercely around him. "I know you didn't want this for me, but it was my choice" he breathed in her ear. "I don't want any more tears from you. Let's just be happy. Even if it's only for a while." Despite the fact that she was still crying she nodded in agreement and he kissed her gently and she decided being happy might not be so difficult. Even if it was temporary.

Just then the doors busted open and a panting, red faced Ron Weasley came stumbling in. His eyes widened with surprise at seeing Harry sitting there with a very healthy looking Hermione by his side. "Blimey, how did you get back here so quick?"

There was a strange silence as Harry tried to think about how to explain it all to Ron, but it was Ginny's laughter at the sight of her flustered brother that came as a simpler solution. Her laughter at the sight was infectious and soon even Ron was grinning slightly, and had forgotten to worry about what Harry had done and was simply glad to see his best friends were alright. The trio had survived once more.

' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' '' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' '' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' '

Madam Pomfrey had finally appeared with a medi-wizard from St. Mungos who was amazed to see Hermione's full recovery. "Whoever cursed you must have retracted it" was their only guess at her sudden health, and Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny all stayed quiet. Harry's new power was dangerous and it was unspoken agreement between the four that the less people knew about it, the better off they would be.

With no choice but to hand Hermione a clean bill of health the four decided to clean up and take a walk around the Hogwarts grounds. It was just around sunset, but the cold winter air felt good to Harry as he walked with Hermione's hand firmly grasped within his own. He had only been away from Hogwarts for a couple days but he had missed his home. He felt right surrounded by his friends. They had become his family, and Ginny was right when she had said that no drama should come between them.

Hermione shivered slightly at a cold breeze from across the frozen lake, and she felt a warmth spread quickly over her like a blanket. She looked curiously at Harry, knowing he must have soundlessly summoned a warming charm, but if he had done so he did not indicate it in any way. _Has he become so powerful that he can perform magic subconsciously? _and she shuddered again, this time not from cold but from the certainty that he had in fact become that powerful. There was a tugging worry in her stomach about what Harry's future would hold but she tried to ignore it.

They walked Ron all the way back to Hogsmeade where Harry extended his hand to offer Ron a firm handshake. "Thank-you" he said to the tall red head. "For everything."

"It's never a dull moment with you Harry" Ron joked, but then sobering he looked at his friend with a sincere expression of loyalty. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Back at Hogwarts Harry allowed Hermione some time alone and he crept up to his room wishing he felt tired but he did not. He was suddenly afraid that he would never feel fatigue like a normal person. He wondered what else he would cease to feel. He sat in his room and soundlessly played with the flame of the lantern by his bed, feeling its energy in his mind. Some sensations of mortality had been lost, but he had gained some new senses that were strange and addictive in a troublesome way.

He made the flame float up into the air and he watched it transform into the image of a phoenix, sending it flying around the room. All of this required very little energy or focus but it amused him. He could sense that Hermione was coming up to his room now. How he could feel this he couldn't quite explain, but he had a feeling he would get a better control over it with time. He sent the phoenix swooping back to its perch in the lantern where it resumed the normal shape of a flame.

The door creaked open and he smiled to see her shuffling into the room in her pajamas, a large book tucked under her arm. "Do you plan on studying?" he asked jokingly.

"Yes" she said "and so should you. I've been bed ridden for a few days, I don't want to fall behind again."

"Well you can have fun with that, I'm all set on studying."

"You know Harry, you may have all these new powers but knowledge is a form of power too. Don't forget that."

Despite her admonishment he grinned. "Well, in case I do forget, I'm sure I have you to remind me."

She sat down on the bed and opened the book. She appeared to be trying to read for a moment, but then looked at him with pleading eyes. "Please just study with me for a while. I want things to feel more... normal again."

"You mean you don't want to think about what I've done. That I'm a Damned One."

"Don't call yourself that" she said angrily, her brown eyes flashing.

"That's what they said to me too. The Gods. But they're not really Gods, they're more like giant fucking pricks."

"Harry!" she gasped, but she had nothing else to add because she had no clue what he was talking about. So he explained about the Underworld, about being tested and about how it wasn't really a world of the undead, it was more like a secret lair for a group of very ancient, very conceited wizards and witches.

"They play with the lives of mortals. They could have ended Voldemort before I was even born but they don't care about that. They don't care about starvation or war. In fact, before leaving I was nearly positive that they take amusement in suffering. I think they will create a plague just to have a laugh at how they are above it all. They place bets and gamble with lives."

"Greek myths often described the Gods as being petty in this way."

"I know. But they aren't Gods, not really. And they're not invincible. I want to destroy them."

There was a darkness in his tone that made her fearful. "Are you sure you can Harry? How would you even find them?"

"I'll need you help" he admitted. "But I know they can be destroyed, I could sense something... a weakness in them. Their conceited, they don't expect to ever be challenged. For thousands of years they've become complaisant. They won't expect it when I come for them."

She chewed her lip nervously. This talk of destroying false Gods was alarming and troublesome to her still frail mental state. As if he could sense this he stood up and grabbed his potions book and flopped down next to her on the bed. "Alright. Let's study."

They read in silence for a bit, but Hermione realized try as she may, she could not escape into a book the way she had many times before. After a half hour she finally broke the silence. "Now that you're immortal will you not age?"

Glad to escape the boredom of his studies Harry carelessly tossed his book aside. "I will age just like normal I believe. The old man, he looked ancient. But he could shape shift to escape the pains of his age. This body will grow old though, I'm quite sure."

She was somewhat relieved by this. The idea of Harry staying in his 18 year-old body forever seemed problematic for many reasons. "So, you can still grow old with me" she smiled softly.

"I plan on it" he said, and moving closer he kissed her deeply now, with all the passion he had stored up inside of him for the past few days. He kissed her with the memory of nearly having lost her, and the joy of having found her again. And as his lips pressed against hers, she could feel something different about his embrace. Like a heat radiating from him and moving through her entire body. She realized she was sensing some of the magical power stored inside of him and the experience was elating like a drug.

She deepened the kiss further, wanting and needing more of him. She moved on top of him, her book toppling from the bed but she vaguely noted it hadn't hit the floor. Pulling back for breath she saw the book was hovering in the air.

"I didn't want your book to get all banged up" he said with a mischievous grin.

She laughed at him and moved back into his kiss, deciding that in some ways, these powers had their perks. For now she would try not the think about the dangers.


End file.
